


Healing begins

by EonaSPN



Series: Unknown Spy [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cats, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Healing, Horses, Judgmental Wizarding World, M/M, Mentions of dark subjects, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Harry Potter, Pining Harry, Post-War, Still no real slash yet, Trauma, horse therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-13 04:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 72,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonaSPN/pseuds/EonaSPN
Summary: Harry has managed to free Draco from Azkaban. But they are only at the start of their journey, because Draco is deeply traumatised and not at all acting like he used to. Now Harry has to find ways to cure him.





	1. Difficult first morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> here is finally the second part of The unknown spy. I apologise for the delay.
> 
> On fanfiction.net this is all in one story because if I split it up no one would find the prequel. With the series here though I seperated it into several stories.
> 
> I'm not quite sure where I will end this second part yet.
> 
> WARNINGS: Alright, there will be mentions of dark themes like rape, abuse and violence during this and (probably) the following stories. I didn't put up the specific warning tags like it's never described much, just mentioned.
> 
> Another thing is that I have no medical knowledge whatsoever. So everything I write in the story is made up.  
English is not my first language either.
> 
> Tags might still update since I'm not familiar with tagging yet.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

I awake the next morning from a fitful sleep. These empty grey eyes have been dancing through my dreams. I groan as I roll over and my feet land on the cold floor. The house is eerily silent. Hermione left last evening after a short talk about our next steps, so now I am alone with an apathetic Draco. After a short morning coffee to wake myself up, I decide that this is my next goal today. Find out how bad Draco is and at least get him clean for now.

Softly padding upstairs, I stop in front of the door to his room. I have to take a deep breath before I muster up enough courage to enter. When I do my eyes wander immediately to the bed. Only to be met with said empty grey I dreamed about the whole night. Draco is awake, seemingly unseeing eyes locked straight ahead. He has not moved one bit from the position I put him in the last evening. I shudder again at how entirely unresponsive and run down he has become. Softly I kneel in front of his head.

“Hey, Draco. Good morning. How are you today?” I try to act as normal as possible with him first.

He doesn’t so much as blink. I sigh and put my hand on his shoulder, “Can you hear me, Draco? I am Harry. Harry Potter, do you remember? We used to be rivals in school.”

My face falls as he still doesn’t show much of a reaction but after some seconds of silence his face twists. It is that crooked smile again. There is no happiness in his face, just empty. Again tears tug at the back of my eyes. I reach out my hand and stroke his cheek softly.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get you out of there earlier. You never deserved that. You sacrificed everything and had to pay even more. It’s not fair,” I lean forward a bit, “But now you’re free. You are never going back to Azkaban again. I will take care of you, I promise. I will make sure you can become a normal person again. Just give me a sign you’re still in there.”

I don’t know what I expect but it certainly isn’t this. Again it takes some time until he even does anything. But then he slowly reaches out one of his bone-thin hands towards me. It is slow and shaking but he certainly does react. Then his ice-cold hand lands on my cheek, that crooked smile still on his face. He isn’t even really looking at me. I gasp and my pained face falls against the bed.

“I am so sorry,” I repeat, “But I will do my best to make it up to you.”

He doesn’t react this time either, but the hand stays on my cheek. It is ice-cold, reminding me of a ghost’s limb with frightening measure. I shake my head, straightening up. Now is not the time to mourn over the past. Now is the time to create a better future. With as much care as I can muster, I take his hand from my face and force a smile on mine.

“Right and we start now,” I stand up, still holding his hand, “And the first thing is to get you something to eat and then clean you up, okay?”

He only blinks up at me. As he doesn’t move of his own accord, I carefully tug at his hand. Slow but obediently he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the mattress. His eyes are focused straight ahead again, seeing nothing or at least something I can’t see. Slipping an arm around the thin waist I slowly lift him on his feet. His legs aren’t strong enough to keep him up on their own, but with my support, he is at least able to walk. Our movement is slow and it takes way more time than I would alone to reach the small sitting room on the same floor. I don’t want to make him walk down two stories to the kitchen in the basement, so we are eating up here. Once there, I carefully lower him into one of the armchairs standing around a small table. He slumps into it, body not holding him upright properly, and with the tiniest twitch around his mouth, presses into the soft material. I summon the food already prepared in the kitchen and actually get some reaction from Draco. When the food appears on the table, he turns his head towards the smell. His expression gets a hint wistful.

“That’s for you, Draco. No more prison food, I promise,” I say, then frown, “If you were fed there to begin with, which I am not so sure about anymore, going by your appearance,” I sit myself on the table in front of him and take up a croissant, something I have seen Draco eat often during Hogwarts, “Here. Can you eat by yourself?”

He stares blankly at me and the food too but doesn’t make any move to reach for it. He is still as apathetic as he was when we got him out of prison. Even when I stretch the croissant further towards him, he only looks at it as if he doesn’t really know what to do with it. I sigh, a painful sting shooting through my chest. But he has to eat something. He is way too thin anyway. If this goes on for much longer, he is going to die of starvation. So I tear a small piece from the croissant.

“Here, you have to eat that,” I lean forward, nearly touching his lips with the food, “Open up, Draco,” I say with a pained chuckle, “I never thought I would ever feed you. Eat it, please,” I urge.

It seems to take him some time to process the words again, but then he actually opens his mouth. I give another of these chuckles and carefully put the morsel of food in his mouth. Urging him to eat, he eventually complies, chewing the bit of croissant. He gives me one of those crooked smiles, mixed with wistfulness. When I tear off another piece, he carefully reaches out a shaky hand. But it is hesitant as if he doesn’t know whether he is allowed to take the good food. I give a pained smile, one tear running down my cheek, and hand him the piece. For one moment he makes eye contact with me and I think to detect the smallest spark of thankfulness in the usually dead eyes. After he has put the food into his mouth, I carefully take one of his hands and press the rest of the croissant in it.

“That’s all for you. You can have all the food you want as long as you are with me. No matter what, no matter how much. All you have to do is ask,” I choke out.

He doesn’t react only eats the croissant at an incredibly slow pace. Each of his movements is shaky. But we are getting there. Nearly all of it is gone when he stops eating. He throws me a cautious look, then stares at the food for a moment. Another look to me and the rest of the croissant suddenly disappears into one of his dirty sleeves. For a moment I startle than realize that it is an action he learned in prison where he didn’t get enough food. Again sadness overwhelms me at how broken he has become. I caress his dirty cheek for another time, then I take a buttered toast and hold it to him. He looks at it for a moment, then takes a bite from it. I give a small smile. After half of the bread he looks up. Gaze skipping from the food to me to his sleeve and back, I shake my head.

“You don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have to hide any food. You can have as much as you want from now on, I swear,” I take his hands in mine, empty eyes vaguely focusing on me, “Look at me. There will always be food here. I will leave it there, you can take something whenever you want. But please don’t start hiding morsels everywhere in the house, that would become pretty smelly.”

He just stares at me with that empty gaze, so I only shake my head, “You want something else?” I ask, holding out a biscuit to him. He makes a motion that could be understood as a headshake, so I put the food down. Only to notice that his eyes seem to constantly wander to the small jar of jam on the tray next to me. I grin and pick it up, “Jam? You want some of that?” another small spark shoots through his eyes and I take that as ‘yes’. I chuckle and scoop some onto my finger, “Here you go.”

To my surprise he leans forward without a moment delay. His movements are still slow but determined this time. And then I freeze, because his mouth wraps around my jam covered finger without one second of hesitation. I twitch uncomfortably. Thankfully he stops soon and sits up straight again. His eyes become vacant again.

Clearing my throat, I look at him, “How about we get you cleaned up now? You desperately need it,” I say, standing up and taking his hands again.

He looks at me but doesn’t react any further than that. So I sigh and pull him back on his feet. A quick wordless spell and the bathtub some rooms over starts to fill on it’s own. Until I get Draco there it should be about half-full. I don’t want to put more in it, since he still can’t really sit up straight on his own and I sincerely don’t want to risk him drowning.


	2. Visit to the bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> first, thank you for the kudos.
> 
> Second, these chapters were written years ago and now reading through them again to find mistakes I missed last time, I am not as happy with how I wrote it, but it's too late to make major changes. But it's only a few chapters before I like my own story again.
> 
> Warnings for this specific chapter: Mentions of rape, major violence, abuse and self-harm.
> 
> Disclaimer: the characters are not mine.

Our walk is slow again, but he seems to have gained at least a little bit of strength from the first proper food in what I guess are months for him. Entering the bath, he twitches as the heat hits him. He is used to cold these days, so I run my hands down his back.

“It’s okay. I just want to clean you up. Calm down.”

He takes shaky steps further into the room. I lead him over the threshold and stop him. Carefully leaning him against me, I very slowly put my hands on the hem of his prison shirt. He barely flinches as I start moving it upwards. When I finally pull it over his head, I feel him shudder in my arms, but he stays still. When I run my eyes over his naked upper body, my throat closes. He is literally nothing but skin and bones anymore. His skin is something between pasty white and sickly grey. He is littered with bruises, cuts and scars. Since I can see each bone clearly, I also spot some bumps on them which suggest that they were broken and not properly healed. I take a shuddering breath, mumbling apologies all over again.

Focusing back on the task at hand, I reach down to his pants, the same dirty grey. Even though I am as careful as I can, he still flinches when it slips down his thighs, but then he goes slack, like he lost every last ounce of fight in him. I run shaking hands through his hair, an awful suspicion creeping up on me.

“Oh god,” I cry, burying my face in his hair, no matter how awful he smells, “I should have never let you go in there. It was so wrong. I don’t even want to imagine what they did to you there.”

To my surprise though, I suddenly feel a cold touch on my neck. I jerk up, only to meet empty grey eyes. Draco is looking straight at me. It’s his hand that’s laying on my neck, bony fingers running slowly into my hair. I choke on another sob and bury my head back into the cold skin.

“I should be comforting you, not the other way around,” I muffle into his throat.

He just tugs at my hair, causing me to look at him. The crooked smile is back on his face and for once his empty orbs are focused on me. His eyes seem to say ‘Don’t worry, I can deal with it. I am past it’. I only shake my head and pull him close another time. And chuckle wryly, tears still on my cheeks.

“Now I am dirty too, great. Doesn’t matter, I can wash up after you. Now come on,” I say, carefully leading him over to the bathtub.

His legs look as awful as the rest of his body does. Bruised, scarred and white skin on bones. And my suspicion strengthens, judging by the reddish-brown substance, which I guess is blood, still clinging to the inside of his upper thighs. I can’t help but shudder, trying to hide it from my sensitive charge, but he apathetically sets foot in front of foot and follows me to the tub. I stop him in front of it, but before I can get him into the half-high water, he twitches and shies away from it. I softly stroke his back.

“I promise I don’t want to hurt you. The water isn’t going to either, I swear. I don’t know what they did to you, but I swear to you, it’s never going to happen to you again,” I take his face in my hands and make him look at me, “I promise I will take care of you. I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again. You can trust me.”

He only softly shakes his head. Well, I know he would never trust me easily. Not after everything he went through, I can hardly blame him. So I only coax him to get into the tub with as much care as I can muster. His movements are slow and hesitant but in the end he does it. He twitches a moment but then sinks his foot into the warm water with a soft sigh, which has me smiling. A worryingly long time later he finally sits in the tub. His right hand is running through the warm water, a wistful, but still crooked smile on his face. He lifts the hand out of the water and lets it fall down again, splashing water on me too. While at it he gives a short sound, which could be the start of a laugh, but more like a toddler would sound, rather than a grown man. I sigh. This is going to be a very long road until recovery. But we are going to get there one day.

One hand never leaves his back as I steady him in the bathtub. He is sitting still, slightly slumped, apart from the occasional movement of his hand, splashing water a bit. I summon toiletries, towels and additional water over. Carefully I wet a cloth and then look at his face in confirmation for a moment, but he doesn’t react in the slightest, only stares straight ahead. I sigh but put the cloth to his back anyway. He doesn’t even flinch. I run the material half-way down his back, only for it to come back completely brown with a worryingly reddish tint immediately. I shudder at the amount of dirt on his skin. And I am worried that a large part of that dirt is actually dried blood. With a deep frown I put the cloth back in the water, colour releasing into the fluid.

I repeat this process more times than I can count. I have to wash the cloth every few inches of skin. It’s unbelievable how dirty he is. That is far below any human living conditions. It wrings a pained and sarcastic snort out of me though when I compare him to how he acted back at Hogwarts. Always looking perfect, not a hair out of place (well, the first years at least). I was sure he spent longer in front of the bathroom mirror each day than our whole boys’ dorm together. Not one bit of that is left in him now. His skin is covered in layers of dirt. His hair hangs below his shoulder blades, stringy and tangled. The once so shining platinum blonde is a dirty grey now. I sigh as I push the greasy locks over his shoulder to start on his upper back. Once I have cleared away the dirt, I spot a whole network of scars, so many finer ones but also huge cuts. I shudder and supress another sob. He rips me out of my sad thoughts as he makes some kind of squealing sound as he splashes up more water with his right hand, effectively raining water over both of us. I sigh and run my hand over his head.

“We are going to help you. Don’t worry. One day you will be the same annoying Draco Malfoy again, you will see,” I pat his now cleaned back (the only part of his body that is not covered in dirt).

Since the water bowl is already more brown than translucent, I make the water exchange itself wandlessly, since I discovered that my charge reacts negatively to wands (as far as he can react that is). While the water is heating, I start to untangle the dirty locks. It goes very slow, especially since I don’t have any experience with long hair and his is in an awful state. Soon I have the bowl back and continue on with his sides and arms. When I reach his left forearm and run the cloth straight over it, I stop in surprise. There is the dark mark, that much was clear, I saw it already after all. But what I didn’t see or expect were the deep scratches turned into thick scars running all over the mark. The tattoo partially disappears under the heavy injuries. Where does that come from? With curious eyes I take his left arm up, he is only moving the right one anyway. Inspecting it closely, I frown. I am surely not an expert in this but from what I can tell these scars date a good deal further back than the ones I saw on the rest of his body. From before the trials. Hell, before the final battle maybe even. Since none of Voldemort’s followers would do that, the only possibility is that he did that himself.

“Draco Malfoy,” I sigh, shaking my head and rubbing the heavily scarred skin, “You are a mystery all over. What other secrets have you been hiding all these years?”

He doesn’t give me an answer of course. Unless you count the fact that he gives me another half-squeal, letting his hand fall back into the water again. I shake my head and stand up, sending the bowl for another clean up. I stretch, that crouched position is not comfortable for long times. Just before I started on his hair, I put a spell up that keeps him upright even when I’m not holding him up. Noting that the water he is sitting in is cooling too, I reheat that as well. I hand him a cup of water to drink. He doesn’t react for the longest time and I have to push the drink further into his face to make him notice it. When he does, he lifts his wet right hand back up and grasps the handle of the mug shakily. His movements are unsure, but at least he is able to drink on his own. A small light in the dark. But as soon as he is finished his grip apparently slips and the mug crashes down. Seeker reflexes awakening I catch it before it hits the water surface.

“That was close,” I breathe, “Alright. So you can drink on your own but hold nothing even a bit heavier for longer than a minute. We might have to work on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Hope you liked it. Comments and kudos are always appreciated.  
See you next chapter.


	3. The result of the cleaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> Same warnings as the last chapter still.
> 
> Also, still not completely happy with my old writing.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters not mine.

The bowl returns and I continue on the washing with his front. I carefully run the cloth over the more than pronounced ribs. I shudder at every knob on them that portrays one time the bone was broken. He has stopped splashing, arms just hanging limply in the water. But he is watching me, grey eyes vaguely focused on me.

Another water exchange later I am carefully working on his face. That proves to be a slight problem as he refuses to close his eyes. So I take to carefully working around them, shielding them. Eventually though I softly push my hands over his eyelids, forcing them closed. And I am somehow relieved to not have to see that dull grey staring at me anymore. Once his whole face and head (apart from the hair of course) are clean I breathe a sigh in relief. Now he looks at least a little bit more like the Malfoy I remember. When I stroke his now clean cheek, he looks up at me, giving me another crooked smile.

“Yeah, alright,” I waver for a moment, hand reaching towards his legs, but when his face goes lax again, I pull back up, “Let’s leave the nastiest bit for the end. I know this will be a difficult part for you. So first let’s get that beautiful hair of yours back into shape.”

It takes me a long time to work his hair straight. Combing, wetting it, washing the dirt out and get at least a bit of shine back in it. He relaxes into my touches as far as he is able to do that. A soft sound leaves his throat, reminding me of a croon as I work the last of the shampoo out of his hair. I washed it four times by now and it is slowly returning to a nice mane, if you are not looking at the haggard ends. It loses the grey, but still doesn’t regain the slight golden sheen it had in our younger years anymore. It looks still way too white for my liking, but there is little I can do about that now. Since I am not good with cutting hair I will wait until Hermione returns and let her do it. I sigh as I pull the now wet strands into a lose bun to keep them out of my way. Rubbing sweat from my forehead, I note contently that he is now completely clean again from the hips upwards. I have also washed his upper body with more than one different product, all for sensitive skin after all his time in Azkaban.

“Now we still have to do the worst part of it all. Please stay calm alright. I won’t hurt you I promise. All I want to do is get you clean again,” I roll my sleeves further up and let most of the water drain from the tub.

With the upmost care I slowly reach down to his thighs, a new bowl of water next to me. He twitches but barely moves otherwise. Careful, as not to startle him any more than necessary I start to wash his legs and feet, but always staying an inch away from the upper end of his thighs. Turning him around won’t be easy, so instead I lift his legs up to wash the underside of them. His eyes are worryingly empty again once I am finished with that, but I still have to wash the rest of him. With hesitation and minimal movements, I clean his pelvis area I just hope he will be well enough to wash himself soon, this is embarrassing as hell!

“Okay, now I still need you to turn over. I know you hate this, but I can’t leave it like this,” I urge him, softly pushing him from the side. He goes lax again, causing me to cringe, “Sorry, I really am. But I have to do this.” As he is completely pliant, I can turn him over, so he is leaning against the wall on the other side of the tub. My cheeks are bright red, but I run the washcloth over his backside. I run my tongue over my lips nervously, “Look I hate to do this too, but you have to endure it,” my own hand is shaking as I clean the last of him.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finally being finished with washing him, I open his hair and let a last rush of water run over his body. He splutters a tiny bit and blinks when the water hits his face. I have to basically lift him from the tub. Outside I settle him on the floor on a fluffy towel, leaning him against the tub, warmed by the water. His empty eyes stare right past me while I treat recent cuts and bruises with an ointment. I sigh when I step back from him. He is clean now, but that leaves a white skinned skeleton, covered in a mess of scars and bruises. Not a nice view. Suddenly his eyes though snap up to me. I nearly jump at the minimal second of clarity passing through them. Just that one moment and then they are back to empty but the thankfulness in them was clear. I smile.

After having put fresh clothes on him, I lift him up again and walk him back to the living room. I had to alter the clothes a bit because he is still taller than me, but since he is nearly a skeleton, I also had to make them tighter. Since it is already past noon, the next thing we have to do is eat again. But just as I am making my way along the hallway with Draco, I feel someone prodding at the wards around my fireplace. Carefully feeling it out, I smile when I recognize Hermione’s magical signature. With a wave of my hand I open the wards for her and when I enter the living room, she is waiting in front of the fireplace, a basket on her arm. I give her a smile before I focus on guiding Draco to the same armchair as this morning. He stares blankly and slumps into the chair like last time. I stroke his now clean, though slightly damp, hair, then straighten up and turn towards my friend.

“Hello Hermione. Nice to see you. I didn’t expect you to be here so soon again.”

She smiles back, though a sad look lingers on Draco, “Hello Harry. Yeah, I felt like I needed to come. Besides I brought you two lunch,” she lifts the basket she is holding, “I am sure you didn’t find time to prepare food yet.”

I blush slightly, “That’s true. I spent the whole time since morning getting Draco clean again. I think he looks much better now, don’t you?” I get a glad nod from her, brown eyes resting on the thin form, then I look warily at the basket, “But you didn’t cook that yourself, did you?”

Now it’s her time to blush. Even if they called her the brightest witch of her age at Hogwarts, if they had cooking as a subject there, she wouldn’t have gotten that title. Because to put it bluntly she is rubbish at it. I only ate her cooking once. That was enough of a trauma, not to mention the ten minutes I spent throwing up over my toilet. Ron was braver in that department and got food poisoning at least once for his efforts.

“No, actually I didn’t,” she glares at my relieved expression, “No, it’s from Mrs. Weasley. I told her about the situation and she was surprisingly sympathetic and immediately cooked up a variety of foods since I wasn’t sure what Draco liked.”

“Tell her my thanks the next time you see her,” I smile and take the basket, smiling in bliss at the delicious smells wafting up from it.

Plate after plate I start setting out most of the table around me again, since I am sitting on it again, facing the unresponsive Draco.


	4. Lunch and a long list of injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> Thank you to bafflinghaze for the comments. And thank you for all of the kudos.
> 
> I am currently trying to update every two to three days for now.
> 
> Important Warnings: more mentions of rape, torture and abuse.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and I have no medical knowledge whatsoever.

“How is he?” Hermione asks from behind me, staring at the blonde.

I sigh, “Not really good. Most of the time he doesn’t react to anything. He hasn’t said a word or really moved on his own. We will talk later, okay?” I look at her for a second, “First it’s important he eats something.”

She nods and sits down on a chair in the corner of my vision, “You should maybe give him something soft. You know like mashed potatoes or something alike. I contacted Michael again and he said that Draco has most likely been given little other than some unidentifiable mash all the time he was down there. His words, not mine. So his teeth most likely wouldn’t be able to deal with something like a steak.”

“Okay,” I agree and as she says, scoop up a spoon of mashed potatoes and hold it to Draco’s lips. He doesn’t react like last time, so I sigh and prod the chapped lips, “Hey Draco, you have to eat. I said it this morning already. Draco!”

Hermione is watching us from the side with a sad face, “Is it always like that?”

“Yeah, basically,” I pull a grimace, then prod the blonde again, “Open up, Draco. You need to eat.”

This time he does react and opens his mouth. I give a small smile and put the mashed potatoes in his mouth. He closes again and chews. It earns us a giggle from the girl.

“It’s sweet how he reacts to those commands from you,” she smiles.

“Hm,” I hum, taking up another spoon, “I think it’s less my commands than he just needs some time to understand what he is supposed to do before he reacts.”

She nods and I hold the spoon to him. He just stares at it, looking what I would guess is confused. Even when I press it in his hand, he just stares at it. Eventually he lets the thing fall into his lap. I sigh, but before I can clean it up, he stretches his right hand out (the left still seems unresponsive) and dips the finger into the mashed potatoes, scooping some up. Still staring blankly, he puts the finger in his mouth, sucking the food from it. I blink while Hermione can’t seem to be able to decide between amusement and shock.

“Is he even unable to eat by himself?” she asks worried.

“No, I don’t think so,” I frown, something coming to my mind. Instead of the spoon I tear off a chunk of bread and push it in his hand. I smile when he, as I expected, grabs the food securely and starts pulling little pieces from it, slowly eating one after the other, “It’s not that he can’t eat by himself. He did it with a croissant this morning too. It’s just that he isn’t used to eating with cutlery anymore. I doubt they got any spoons down there, so he used his fingers for everything.”

“That does make sense,” she nods, “I’m glad that he can do at least that on his own.”

“I agree,” I smile as I watch Draco eat the bread, until he does the little food hiding thing again. I chuckle tiredly, “And that’s something he learned in prison too. Always keep food stores. I will have to watch out that my house doesn’t start to smell of rotten food soon.”

I feed Draco some more food, something more substantial than empty bread. Until he does that little head shaking motion again. I worry that he eats so little, but Hermione reassures me that this is normal since his stomach is far smaller than usual after years of malnourishment. The blonde seems to be nodding off while sitting up, so I slowly lead him back to his room. Hermione and I have to talk anyway. He doesn’t react, just like always, only falls into the covers, empty grey eyes slipping close. When I turn around, I nearly jump when my friend is standing in the doorway.

“Before we go down and talk, I want to do something,” she says softly, “We need Draco for that.” I frown but she smiles sadly and shakes her head, “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt him or anything.”

“Okay. What is it?” I ask cautiously.

She approaches me, a thick book in her hands and then holds it out to me, tapping on the page, “This is a diagnose spell. I want to run this over Draco. To see what he has. There are two I want to use. One is for physical stuff, but it also lists the scars and alike. The second is for mental health.”

“Fine, do it. He’s sleeping by now and all that is going to happen is that a sheet of paper will appear, right?” I reluctantly agree.

She purses her lips, “As much as I would like to, but I think it would be better if you did it.”

“Why?”

“Not anyone can be a healer. Everyone has a different affinity for this kind of magic. And unfortunately this seems to be one of the few things I am not good at,” she pouts, looking slightly pissed, “You on the other hand have a high affinity for healing magic. I mean, you’re studying it. So it should be easier on both the caster and Draco if you would do it instead.”

“Fine,” I lift an eyebrow, “Show me the incantation then.”

She grins as she hands the tome over to me. I huff as the heavy weight threatens to pull my arms down. Reading over the spell, I memorize it and the wand movements. After some minutes I turn back to the blonde and step to the bed. Taking a deep breath, I preform the two spells. Only to nearly choke on air when the lists come back. They are worryingly long. Before I can read them, Hermione hurriedly steps forward and rolls them up, so I can’t see.

“Not here,” she mumbles, squeezing my shoulder, “Let him sleep in peace. We can go through this and discuss it back in the living room.”

I nod, my throat still choked. After stroking the gaunt face a last time, I leave the now asleep boy alone in the room. I follow Hermione back to the sitting room from before, the food still on the table under a heating charm. I sigh and let myself fall into the sofa next to my friend who rubs my upper arm soothingly.

“You okay, Harry?” she asks worried.

I shake my head, “It’s hard. He is broken, so little like the boy I know from school. I want nothing more than to give him his life back, but it’s still very far in the future,” then I look her in the eyes, “But it doesn’t matter, I will be strong for him. I will manage, don’t worry, Hermione. Now let’s look at these lists.”

She throws me another concerned look, but nods and unrolls the first parchment, “Okay, this is just for the physical injuries, but it also dates them by month.”

I lean over and both our eyes run over line after line of injuries. It’s horrifying, seeing the amount of his pain.

“Broken bones, 16 in the last year alone…” Hermione breathes, a shocked hand on her mouth, “Bruises and cuts, more than I can count… Severe damage to internal organs…” she chokes, “Heavy anal scarring…?!”

I groan pained, “I suspected it, but didn’t want to believe it,” a sob bubbles up again.

“They-They… did that to him too there?” she looks slightly sick.

“I guess so,” my heart clenches as I look at the list, “But some of this is older actually.”

“Older?”

“Yeah, like in the year between Easter in our 6th year at Hogwarts and the final battle,” our gazes meet, shocked and disgusted.

Hermione shoots up, “Excuse me for a moment.”

Then she literally flees the room. I stare after her for a second until I hear a door slam open and then retching. Apparently she really got sick. Not that I can blame her. To think that Draco was hiding something like that even when we were still in school. Since she is gone, I pull the list to me to read it over on my own. A few minutes later she returns, looking pale, and falls back into the cushions next to me. I give her a short nod and she picks up the second list, the one about Draco’s mental troubles. While I finish and put away the first parchment, she only seems to turn whiter as she reads the shorter list. When she is finished, she just buries her face in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Hope to see you next time.


	5. A life filled with pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> This is another dark chapter.
> 
> Big Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, torture and rape.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine and I have no medical knowledge whatsoever.

“Is everything okay?” I ask nervously.

“Yes…” she mumbles absentmindedly, “Actually no,” she sighs. Her pale face comes up to me, pained eyes meeting mine, “Look I know how important he is to you,” she starts and I feel a lump forming in my throat. Whatever she read, it’s not good. I fear that there is something really wrong with Draco. She swallows and stutters finally out, “But it may be better to let him go…”

I choke on air, “What? You want to… No!”

“Look, I know, and I understand you. I am serious,” she seems desperate, “But this,” she waves the list in front of my face, “is bad, like really bad. Draco is in a really awful state.”

“I know,” I argue, frowning at her, “But his injuries can be healed. There are spells, potions or ointments that can even make his scars disappear,” I snatch the list from her hands, scanning over it, “I’m not a mind healer, but I am sure there are ways to heal him.”

“There might, but,” she shoots back, pulling the paper back, “I worry that he also may be too far gone already.”

“He isn’t!” I shout, desperation creeping into my voice.

“Do you see this?” she waves the list, “There are countless mental problems here that could make living normally impossible on their own in severe cases. Not to mention the fact that his brain has basically shut itself down.”

I freeze, “What do you mean with his brain has shut down? He isn’t braindead.”

“No, of course not,” she soothes, “What I meant to say is that his body is going to heal, yes, but the risk is high that his mind never will. He is operating on little more than instincts and muscle memory right now. The rest of his mind has shut down after all the trauma he went through.”

“But it can be reopened, right? He didn’t completely delete it, just put a barrier up after all,” I press on, there has to be a way to help Draco.

She sighs and runs a shaky hand through her brunette locks, “Technically yes, but the chances are very low. It has only worked like five times ever. And with as deep in as he is… I really don’t think it is going to work.”

“There has to be a way, Hermione! We have to help him. He more than deserves it!”

“Yes,” she gives out a pained hiss, “I agree with you. I am just seeing this the rational way. Maybe,” she squirms uncomfortably in her seat, “it might be better to end his suffering. He has been through so much we don’t have to make him put up with even more. I…”

“NO!” I say with as much force as I can muster, grabbing her hands, “I believe in him. If we give him the chance and help him, he will come back. I am sure. But we have to believe that he can do it,” my eyes fill with sadness, “This is not about me at all. He deserves a normal life too, Hermione. A life where he can be free and live like he wants to. Without his father, his name or Voldemort looming over him.”

“Believe me, I understand you. And I feel the same,” she shakes her head sadly, “He deserves a free life. But… He may not even want to come back, Harry.”

“Why wouldn’t he? He has people waiting for him here.”

“Who Harry?” her eyes are watering, “If you think about it, who does? From his goons one is dead, the other in Azkaban. Pansy is in prison too. Blaise fled the country. His mother is in a mental institution and wouldn’t recognise him even if she saw him. His father is dead too, not that he would be helpful. I can seriously understand if he would just want to be left alone after a whole life spent in pain.”

I choke again, “A whole life! What do you mean?”

She squirms, “As much as we ranted about it, Draco’s life was by far not as perfect as we always thought. He may have been a rich kid who got whatever he wanted as long as it could be bought with money, but there is far much more behind his childhood than we ever knew. Anyone ever knew.”

“What happened to him?” I ask nervously.

Hermione stands up, only to pace in front of the sofa, “It’s… He’s a bit like you.”

“Like me?” I don’t really like where this is going.

“Yes, I know you were neglected and to a certain amount abused by the Dursleys,” I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off, “Don’t even try to deny it. I know.”

“It wasn’t bad…” I start to push it aside again.

“I know, I know,” she falls down next to me again, “You just got beaten on rare occasions when you made a grave mistake, usually involving magic, and they constantly insulted you,” another protest is cut off by her words, “That counts as emotional abuse too,” then she shakes her head, “But that’s not the matter here. Look, even though his life seemed perfect, it was all a mask for Draco. His life was probably worse than yours.”

I feel bile rising in my throat too this time, “Are you meaning to tell me that he was abused too?” this time I am the one to pace, “But-But he had a perfect life. He always bragged about it. He… He…”

“He hadn’t,” she stands up to hug me tightly, “He was forced to study hard from an age on where children usually don’t even visit kindergarten yet. When he made a mistake, he was punished. That punishment could be nearly anything. It started with things like no cookies or room arrest in his young years. Over the time he got older his father became more brutal. Hitting him and after Voldemort came back, Lucius was allowed to live out his full sadistic nature I guess.”

“Oh god,” I can just keep myself from sobbing into her shoulder, “But he never let anything show of that.”

“Of course not. It was a mask. His pain to bear. Malfoys don’t complain and don’t react to pain. They don’t show emotion either. That was apparently part of what was drilled into his head from infancy on,” she strokes my back in comfort, her own tears visible.

“How do you know so much about his childhood?” I breathe shakily, moving back again, to look at her.

She squirms a bit, “Well, you know that I have decided to take up the case of the Malfoys. They got so much shit they didn’t deserve. Due to that I want to petition to the court to have a new trial and maybe arrange things like reparations for what Draco suffered through despite what he did in the war. For that I need evidence though and since none of the Malfoys can tell me anything, I went for information on paper. I searched through the Manor and there I also found Narcissa’s journal. I know Draco kept one too, but he most likely hid it from anyone, destroyed it before going to Azkaban probably. But fortunately Narcissa was not that smart or secretive. So I took her diary and started to read it. I didn’t get much further than Draco’s start in Hogwarts but it’s already pretty sickening if you think about what that bastard did to Draco.”

“I never knew,” I fall boneless into the couch, “He was in so much pain and never told anyone.”

“No, I don’t think he ever did. It was his mask,” she says sadly, “The bitchy, spoiled rich kid who was above everyone and treated them awfully. Just like he is treated at his own home.”

“And we all fell for it,” I sigh, “He is a fabulous actor.”

“That’s for sure,” she agrees, “But as awful as that is, we are losing sight of our main point. Draco has basically spent his whole life in pain. I can’t say if he has ever truly experienced something good and if yes then what. The only method to get someone who is in a state like Draco out into reality again, is not something I think we can use in his case. You have to make said person latch onto a good memory, a very happy part of their life. However I more than doubt that there is anything strong enough in Draco’s past to make him believe that it is worth for him to return to us.”

“But maybe we can show him that he has us now, so he will find something that is worth coming back to,” I suggest urgently.

Hermione frowns, “For that he would have to be more responsive. His mind is nearly in a coma now, for all technicalities. He has the mental capacity of a baby, with some of the rules of his adult-self stuck over it. He can’t really feel it that way, not with the state he is in right now,” she touches my shoulder softly, “Maybe it would really be the best to end his suffering.”

“No!” I shoot around to her, “After what you just told me, he deserves a chance at a happy life even more. We can’t let him die like this.”

“But Harry,” she pulls a pained face, “He is – “

“No!” I yell again, then something comes to me, “No, wait. He-He responds! Sometimes.”

“What?” she looks completely stumped, “What do you mean? I thought he was apathetic.”

“And he is,” I hurriedly explain, nearly falling over my words in the process, “Like 99% of the time. But there were some very few times when he kind of responded to me directly. It wasn’t like he talked or anything, but he seemed to understand my emotions and react accordingly.”

“Okay, that could help a lot. But what exactly do you mean? Can you give an example?” she frowns.

“Yeah, I…” I think for a second, then, “Right. When I… When I found out the worst that happened to him, I basically broke down. But he put his hand on my neck and tugged on my hair to get my attention back up. When I looked at him, he was giving me one of his smiles, but his eyes seemed to reassure me that it was fine. I am sure of it. And when he saw the food his expression changed too. You know, real food for the first time. And – “

“Okay, I get it,” she waves her hand, “You’re right. These moments give you hope. And me too, if I’m honest. But still, Harry. Even if you manage to pull him out of there you will still put him through quite a lot. When he comes back and regains his memories, he is going to go through all that pain again. And the aftermath of it. Are you prepared to help him through that?”

“I am,” I say without a doubt.

It earns me another shake of the head, “I am sure you are, but are you sure you want to put him through that.”

I clench my fists. That is a sore point, true. Knowing that if I bring Draco back to consciousness he will have to endure a lot of pain. But if a free and most likely happy life awaits him in the end, the pain would be worth it.

“I don’t want to cause more pain to him, no,” I say with a bowed head, “But if it has to be, I will. And yes, I am prepared for that too. I will be with him at every step. And,” I swallow hard, “I am prepared to terminate it should it become too much along the way.”

“That’s good,” she sighs, “Then we should think about some steps on how to get him back to reality.”

“Yes,” I smile at her, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Sorry, I'm in a hurry because my internet is about to cut out.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	6. Good day turned bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> Once again, I have to mention that I have no medical knowledge whatsoever. So anything I write is made up, I have no idea whether it would actually happen like that. But let's just say this is a magical universe, anything can happen.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: noting too bad, but panic attacks I guess, and further mentions of what happened to Draco
> 
> Disclaimer: they aren't mine

To my happiness the next day I experience what a ‘good day’ means for Draco. When I walk into his room the morning he has apparently moved. I laid him down on his back after dinner last night, but he is turned on the side now, staring at the door again. I frown first, but when I step closer my eyes widen. There is certainly a spark more clarity in his gaze than the day before. I would like to take it as an improvement from being out of prison, but Michael already mentioned that Draco’s condition can change in between days without any warning.

“Hey Draco,” I kneel in front of him, “Have you slept well?”

It takes a few moments again, then he cocks his head to the side.

“I will take that as a yes,” I chuckle, “Let’s get you out of bed, shall we?”

Of course he doesn’t give me a proper reaction but when I stretch my hands out to him to help him up, he actually reaches back. Only with his right hand again and it’s shaky and unsure, but it’s a step in the right direction. I smile brightly as I grip his hand and slowly pull him up. He also seems a bit more stable while walking. Carefully depositing him in the armchair again, I stroke his head. And to my delight it causes grey eyes to vaguely turn in my direction.

“I guess you are really better today,” I grin as I hold out another croissant to him, which he takes tentatively, “But I am afraid that we won’t be that lucky that this is a constant improvement. Nonetheless we can work on that.”

Eating breakfast works better today with him more alert and at least a little bit more active. He can make it clear what he wants to eat with lightly shaking his head or doing a single nod when I try to give him certain foods. I smile and tell him stories while eating. After I have gotten him to drink a whole cup of tea, I decide to try something.

“Hey Draco,” I lean forward and make sure his eyes are halfway focused on me before I continue, “You are better today, aren’t you? Do you understand what I am saying?”

It takes a moment then he cocks his head to the side, empty eyes in my direction. I sigh.

“Alright, so simple things. Let’s take baby steps,” I take his right hand, the left is still laying unresponsive in his lap, “I know you at least have an idea of what I am saying. You always do, even if it takes you time to understand it,” I take a deep breath, trying to think of something very easy. Right, Michael said he sometimes recognised his own name, “Okay. Do you remember who Draco is? Who is Draco?”

I feel pretty stupid, but if it helps him, I would do anything. I squeeze his hand and fix his eyes. He tilts his head to the other side, seemingly confused for a moment. After I repeat the question he blinks once and gives me a look with the least hint of his old arrogance returning. Then he slowly starts to twitch his right hand which I am still holding. Frowning, I release his hand and he pulls the shaky appendage back towards his body. Then to my surprise he slowly pats his own chest with the pale hand. I smile brightly.

“That’s right. Your name is Draco,” I copy his motion, patting my own chest, “My name is Harry.”

His thin arm stretches out again. I stay very still to not disturb him when he is finally doing something on his own. His progress is slow but eventually his fingers reach me. I stiffen at how much the pale appendage is still shaking. He is so shockingly weak nowadays. No matter how bad his mental state is, the first thing we have to do is get his body back to health. But I am ripped out of my musings when I feel an ice-cold touch on my fingers. I can just so stop myself from jerking. With wide eyes I look down, only to discover Draco’s bony fingers on mine. His fingertips are laying against the back of my hand. I smile brightly at him.

“Yeah, I’m Harry,” I repeat, my free hand closing around his cold one, “I am so glad you are better today. Anyway, do you remember anything?”

He just cocks his head to the side again, hand still caught in mine, “I take that as a ‘no’,” I give a sad smile and lay his hand back in his lap, only to softly reach out for his left hand, “What is with your other arm?” 

When my fingers touch the skin of his left hand, he twitches. The tremor even reaches his left arm and the appendage is pulled a minimal distance further to his body, away from me. It is like he is hiding his left arm. Is he ashamed of it? Carefully I stretch further, trying to reach for his left arm again but he uses his right hand to shakily pull the still appendage away from my touch. I frown.

“Why are you hiding your left arm?” I ask, but as expected I don’t get an answer, “Does it hurt?”

I give it a try. For a moment his eyes seem to avert, still unfocused sure, but much clearer than yesterday. Then he gives one of his small head shakes. No, it doesn’t hurt. Or at least he is trying to convince me that it doesn’t. He could be hiding his pain after all. Careful not to startle him, I reach my hand out again, but I don’t touch him. I hold it out to him, palm up.

“I want to check it over. Just to make sure you are really not injured,” I say softly, “Can I see your arm? Please?”

It takes a long time in which I just wait silently, my hand outstretched. Then he looks down and gives another one of his minimal head shakes. I stroke his right hand, trying to be soothing.

“Please Draco. I need to know why you can’t or won’t move your left arm. There has to be a reason for it. If it really doesn’t hurt, then that can’t be it. You don’t have to be ashamed of anything, I promise,” I plead with him, but he just shakes his head again.

I reach out again, trying to touch his forearm, where I know the scar-covered dark mark lays. He twitches again, pulling a face. I smile sadly.

“It’s okay, Draco. I am not going to hurt you. Just let me see your arm, okay? There is nothing you should be ashamed of. Please Draco,” I plead, continuing to stroke his right hand.

Unfortunately I am not in tune enough with Draco’s state yet. So while I plead with him to let me in, I don’t recognise the warning signs. His body stiffens. The shaking in his hands increases. His eyes lose that spark of clarity and become empty and haunted. His face closes up and becomes apathetic. I only notice once his shaking becomes so bad that his whole hand twitches constantly in my hold. Worriedly I look up into his face to find him shaking badly.

“Draco?” I ask nervously, “Draco? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

At his absolute lack of reaction even after a whole minute, I straighten up hurriedly. My hands shoot out towards his face to soothe him. But that turns out to be the absolute wrong move, because he spasms violently. I jump at the harshness of his movement. Apparently that startles him anew because he curls himself inwards. He pulls his legs up to his chest, shaking like a leaf. His face is incredibly haunted, sending shivers down my back. His mouth is opened in a cry but what shocks me the most is that there is no sound. He is absolutely silent, despite looking like he is screaming his lungs out.

“Draco. Draco,” I chant, trying my best not to instinctively touch him, “Look at me, Draco, please. What is happening? Give me a sign. Anything. Please.”

He doesn’t react, neither to an apology. When I try to shake him, he only gives a strangled sound, pulling his legs closer to his body. His head is now shaking left and right frantically. His whole body is shaking and rocking. But still he does not make any sound. His eyes are wide, face haunted and frantic, but there is not so much as a peep from him. That’s what worries me the most. That he suffers in complete silence.

“Draco, please, wake up. Look at me,” I plead, tears running down my face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. Please, focus on me. Come back, Draco.”

But all my tries are useless. He doesn’t react to anything. If I try to touch him, he only gets worse. During all of it he doesn’t give one sound. In the end I have run out of options, so I take my wand out of my pocket with shaking hands. I am crying too now.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” I whisper, pointing my wand at the shaking figure, “But you have to calm down. You’re hyperventilating and if I let this continue you will seriously hurt yourself. I’m sorry,” with a deep breath, I say the spell to force him to sleep.

The moment the spell hits him, his whole figure crumbles. Every muscle goes lax and he falls into the armchair. I can shoot forward just in time to keep him from falling straight off the chair too and land on the ground. I sigh in relief when I feel his shallow but steady breathing on my arm.

“I’m sorry. I guess I pushed you for too much,” I murmur into his hair again, stroking the soft strands.

I sniffle a last time, before I lift the still way too light body. He is unconscious, so he is only dead weight now. Slowly I carry him back into his room and lay him onto his bed. I rub some tears off my face while I pull the duvet over him. He doesn’t so much as twitch. I sigh sadly. He was so well today and I destroyed it. I stroke his head and face. Still caressing him, I sink down next to the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Tomorrow I will upload one or two more chapters, because I will be going on vacation from 22. to 29. I'm not taking my laptop with me though, so I am not going to be updating during that week.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. See you next chapter.


	7. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> Bit shorter chapter this time, but I am uploading two today anyway.
> 
> Warning for self-harm in this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine.

And that’s how Hermione finds me over an hour later. My wards are open for her, so she walks right in and as I don’t react to any of her calls, she simply searches the house for my magical signature and comes up into Draco’s room. She gasps when she sees me sitting there, slumped in front of the bed. Hurriedly she crosses the room and kneels before me.

“Harry! What are you doing there? Is something wrong with you?”

I look up at her with slightly tired eyes, “I’m okay, ‘Mione. It just…” I rub my hand over my face, “I fucked up.”

She raises an eyebrow, “What makes you say that?”

“It’s about Draco,” I sigh, motioning to the still figure on the bed behind me. The girl gives me a knowing expression, but I ignore her, “I pushed him too much and he freaked out.”

“What happened?” she frowns at me.

“This morning he seemed pretty well. I mean he could show me yes and no. He even recognised his own name. He was much more aware than usual, so I tried to get further,” I burry my face in my arms, “I wanted to find out why he doesn’t move his left arm. If it was a physical reason, we could have fixed it. But when I tried to reach for his left arm, he twitched. It looked like he wanted to get away. I thought he was just ashamed and I made it clear to him that it didn’t matter. I thought he understood so I pushed further to see whether there was something wrong with his arm. And apparently…” I swallow, “I pushed him too far. He freaked out completely. He was shaking like a leaf, white and sweating. His face was so empty, the eyes so haunted. It looked so sad, so painful,” I shudder unconsciously, “And you know what the worst thing was? He should have been screaming his lungs out with the panic attack he was having. But through all of it, he did not make any sound. Not a single sound. It was seriously creepy.”

Her face has gone sad, “That sounds bad, Harry,” her face wanders up to the sleeping boy, “But he seems okay now, right?”

“Well, I had to shoot a spell at him to put him asleep. Since then he is calm yeah, but I wouldn’t call him okay.”

“Yeah,” she strokes my shoulder, “Look Harry. I don’t want to scold you. I am sure you are doing your best in taking care of Draco, but you really have to take the upmost care to not push him. At least not yet. Maybe later in the healing process but it’s way too early. Michael warned us, he can fly into a panic at any moment. The most important thing with him is now to keep it calm and give him time.”

“I know,” I bow my head, “And I am feeling really sorry for it. But it just bugged me that he apparently couldn’t move his left arm. I didn’t want it to be something physical and go overlooked. I didn’t want him to be in unnecessary pain.”

She smiles, “I understand you, but pushing him into anything is only going to get you negative results. It is highly likely that the reason he doesn’t move his left arm is psychological and has nothing to do with pain. Why are you even so concerned? I am sure once he gets better, he will be able to move both his arms again.”

I scramble up, “There is a reason I am so concerned. There is something not right with that arm of his.”

“Yes, he has the dark mark on his left arm,” she frowns, “What do you mean?”

“No, no, that’s not it,” I move up and carefully lean over the blonde, “I’m sorry, Draco. But I have to disturb you for a second,” I slowly turn him around and pull his left arm to me. Motioning Hermione over I pull the sleeve up his arm, revealing the heavily scarred area, “Look at this. The tattoo is basically covered in scars. It looks awful if you ask me.”

She gasps when he sees the net of lines, “Oh god, what happened to there?”

“I don’t know. My guess is that it is self-inflicted,” I grumble out sadly.

“Self-inflicted?”

“Yeah, the scars are mostly old. From a time when he was still free. None of Voldemort’s followers would have destroyed the dark mark. However someone who didn’t take it out of free will and hates the belief attached to it, would maybe do something like that,” I explain, stroking the shredded skin.

She nods softly in agreement, “I think you might be right. It just makes the story sadder. Anyway, even though this is some heavy scar tissue on his arm, I don’t think it would inhibit his movement or cause him any serious pain. Some stinging maybe if he moves it the wrong way but nothing worse. So like I said the reason he doesn’t move his left arm is most likely psychological. He probably connects some kind of trauma with the dark mark on it.”

“I know, I was just worried,” I sigh, tuck Draco’s arm back against his body and stroke his hair a last time before standing up.

“Come on. I think we need to do some research on how to best treat trauma patients,” she smiles wryly as she leads me out of the room and down to the living room.

I sigh at the tower of books she has already put on the table there. She grins and I shake my head. Nonetheless I sit myself on the sofa next to her, grabbing the top book. Most of them are thick medical tomes, like the ones they give us for the healing lectures. That is going to be a lot of work, reading them all.


	8. Going to lecture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> second chapter for today.
> 
> Disclaimer: the characters are not mine and I have no medical knowledge whatsoever.

Hermione leaves two hours later because she has a date with Ron. I read for another hour before the letters start to blur in front of my eyes. I groan as I rub a hand over my face and put the tome aside. Stretching up, I feel my joints cracking. Grey eyes flash through my mind and my shoulders immediately sag. Of course my next move is to check up on him and I shuffle out of the door. When I arrive in front of his room, I have to take a deep breath before I manage to enter. The door creaks a bit when it swings open. My eyes land on the pale, unmoving figure on the bed.

“No changes, huh, Draco,” I sigh and walk over to kneel next to his head.

My hand raises and I stroke through his light hair. He hasn’t moved the tiniest bit since I laid him there. His face is hollowed out.

“I’m sorry for pushing you this morning,” I mumble, “After hours of reading through medical terms that go over my head… Anyway, what all those books said is that especially at the beginning you should give the patient time to adjust,” my head falls onto the mattress next to him, “I promise when you wake up, I will be more careful. But for now, just sleep.”

I sigh and just want to settle down next to him when my stomach suddenly growls loudly. With shock I realise that it is already close to five in the evening and I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. How long did I sit next to his bed after Draco snapped today? It must have been several hours. I shake my head and stand straight. After a last time of stroking the white blond hair, I leave the room in the direction of the kitchen. But once there I realise that even if my stomach is demanding food, I don’t really feel hungry. More like what I eat might come back up again. In the end I settle on an apple and some dry bread. I read some more after dinner. Before I go to bed this evening, I put a detector spell around Draco so it will alert me if something should be wrong.

~ * ~

The next day I have to leave Draco in Hermione’s care for most of the day because I have to go to a mandatory lesson for my healer studies. A lot of the studies we can do from home (even though it’s advised to be actually present) but there are several lectures we have to go to unless we have a very good excuse. So my friend arrives early in the morning. Draco hasn’t moved the whole night through, but he seems as stable as he can get when I come in to get him for breakfast that day. He barely reacted to Hermione though and I put him back to bed before I left for lessons.

So now I am sitting in the lecture hall, twirling a quill around my fingers. As interesting as I find healing, I have difficulties focusing today, grey eyes flitting through my mind again and again.

“And now to the second part of today’s lecture. The reason this is a mandatory one. Because today we start with the subject of psychological illnesses,” the voice of our teacher rips me out of my musings.

Immediately I sit straight. I didn’t know that was on our schedule today. Maybe I should have taken a look at it before I came. But at least that new announcement forces my attention back on the lesson. And I stay focused on it for the rest of the day. I listen attentively and it is easier to understand it like that than by reading those complicated books Hermione brought and probably only she understands. Even though our teacher mostly talks about psychological disorders and it’s little more than an overview, but he also says that a lot of the basic methods can be applied to different types of situations.

So when the lessons end for the day and everybody hurries out of the hall to get home, I on the other hand walk down to our professor. He looks up when I stop next to his desk.

“Mr. Potter. You seemed a bit distracted today. What can I do for you?”

“Uh, I have some questions,” I start, “You said that some techniques can be applied differently as well. I wanted to know how far that works for trauma patients. Some of the symptoms are the same basically.”

“Trauma patients? That’s a difficult subject, Potter. It depends on the situation and the person. There is no single solution for that. But yes, the basic rules count for both situations. Nonetheless you would have to be more specific. But why are you asking?” his eyes narrow at me, “Is there something else behind it?”

“Yeah, well,” my fingers start to fiddle with the books and papers in my hand, “I know someone who has gone through a heavy trauma. He is basically apathetic right now. I am trying to help him, but I am afraid that I don’t know enough to properly care for him,” I softly admit.

That earns me a raised eyebrow, “The best thing would be to search for professional help. Take him to St. Mungos.”

I bite my lip, “I don’t think I can do that. I am afraid he either might be in danger there or they might mistreat him if they even accept. He has…” I swallow. I am reluctant to explain further, but I know I can trust him, “He doesn’t have exactly the best history and standing in the wizarding world.”

“Aha,” he nods, “That’s right, I heard rumours you took a former death eater under your wing.”

“He wasn’t a death eater!” I shout, only to slap a hand over my mouth.

But he only chuckles, “Alright. But anyway, the best thing would still to be to get him to a professional,” at my glare he lifts his hands, “But I understand if you don’t want to. Like I said, without having seen him, I can’t give you any proper advice. I can give you books of course, because that subject is not going to come up in the course for a long time yet. As for general I would first make sure that he feels safe at wherever he is. Once you are sure about that you can start trying to get him from his apathetic state. Confront him with things that might trigger memories but be careful. Start with happy memories, from his childhood for example, and don’t force him. If he shows signs of a panic attack or a relapse, stop. And give him time. You can’t rush something like that or he is going to stay traumatised for the rest of his life.”

“Will he ever become like he was?” I blurt out.

He sighs, “Depends. Most people never forget a trauma if it was bad enough. On the other hand, your generation is strong. I doubt he will ever be like he was before the war, but he should recover, yes,” he tries to give me a reassuring smile, “I could give you the contacts of a friend of mine who specialises in psychology. I know he won’t care about the identity of his patient. Your friend wouldn’t be the first suspected death eater who he treated.”

I waver for a moment, but then nod, “Yes, thank you. I just don’t think he will react well to strangers.”

“You can just call to ask for advice,” he shrugs while he scribbles something on a piece of paper, “Here. But don’t forget that tomorrow is another mandatory lesson,” he smirks, “Maybe you will be a bit more attentive then.”

I flush slightly, “I’m sorry. I will pay more attention.”

“It’s fine,” he waves off, “When someone you care about is in a bad situation studies take a second place. Believe me I know what it feels like. I only started to study healing myself because my sister got hit with a curse that was doing things to her mind.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer but he only smiles.

“The healers managed to counteract it. She’s fine now. But the subject stuck with me.”

“Thank you,” I say again as I take the paper he is handing me.


	9. First ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I am really sorry for the long delay in updating but when I returned from holiday my laptop wouldn't start and I haven't gottten a new one yet.  
Currently I am borrowing my parents' laptop, but writing fanfiction is not exactly something you want to do on your family's computer ^^'
> 
> So I'm not sure when the next update will be, sorry.
> 
> I also didn't proofread it another time.
> 
> Again, I'm not a doctor, I'm studying IT, so I'm just making this up as I go along.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own them.

When I return home it is to find Hermione feeding Draco some sort of soup in the living room. His eyes are as absent as usual and he only reacts slowly to the girl’s commands to open up and eat. But it’s better than nothing after all. When she hears the floo flare she looks up over the blonde’s head. She gives me a sad smile then lays the spoon down.

“Welcome back, Harry. How was your lecture?”

I shrug, “Fine.”

“You didn’t pay much attention did you?” she sighs and stands up, “You thought about Draco the whole time am I right?”

I blush but don’t even really try to deny it. Instead I step around the armchair Draco is sitting in. I kneel in front of him. My eyes fix on his face, his own grey orbs vague and unfocused, while I take his hands in mine.

“Hello Draco,” I say carefully, “Do you recognise me?”

His eyelids are half-closed and he is not properly looking at me. So he does not react to me either. I sigh and run a hand over his hair. I stand back up and turn to my friend, sad eyes meeting hers.

“Is he worse today?” I ask.

She shrugs, “I wouldn’t say so. He’s unresponsive as always. I haven’t really spent enough time with him to judge that.”

I sigh and nod. When I turn back to the other boy and see his eyes drop, I give a small smile. Exchanging a nod with Hermione I step over to him and carefully lift him up.

“Come on, Draco. Let’s get you to bed. It’s been enough for today I would say,” I say to him softly.

He follows my lead, head dropping on my shoulder. I give him another sad smile. Careful I walk to his room. I pull off his outer robe and settle him under the covers. His hand lingers a moment on mine before I step away from bed. Then it’s gone and his eyes fall completely closed. I wish him good night and walk back to the living room where I let myself fall into a chair opposite Hermione who is waiting there with a thick book on her lap.

“So is he worse?” she asks.

“A bit, I would say,” I answer, “But it’s nothing worrying I would say. Michael told us to expect differences in his behaviour after all.”

“Yeah,” she nods thoughtfully, “Anyway,” she motions to the book, “I may have some ideas on how to start with Draco.”

I perk up immediately, “That’s great. I talked to my professor and he had some suggestions as well. He also gave me the contacts to a psychologist who could treat him. But I only want to use that as a last resort. As much as I trust my professor’s opinion on his friend I don’t really want to force Draco to talk with some stranger he has never seen before. At least not until he isn’t somehow better. So what are your ideas?”

“I found a section in this book which describes nearly perfectly Draco’s situation. Not the background or the trauma itself but his condition now,” she clears her throat, “Anyway, it mentions over and over again that you should give the patient something to hold onto. Something physical. They advise is to use something from the childhood for example.”

“Sounds good,” then I frown, “But the Manor burned and with it everything from Draco’s childhood didn’t it?”

“Most things, yes. But maybe you can find something in those boxes I brought you?” Hermione suggests, “Or you could maybe get a cat.”

“A cat?” I can’t help but frown confused.

“Narzissa’s diary mentions that they had a cat at some point, but Lucius threw the animal out when Draco was five. They also had horses and he loves riding according to the diary,” she pauses, “But right now a big horse is more likely to freak him out than help him, but maybe once he is more responsive it might help him. You would have problems actually keeping horses of course, but there are therapies in the muggle world which work with horses. We could take him there at some point. And no one would recognise him in the muggle world either.”

“Sounds good to me,” I nod, “Search some old toy for Draco, get a cat and look into horse therapy in the muggle world,” I can’t help but chuckle, “Seems like a start to me.”

“Yes, a start is better than nothing,” she smiles at me but I only drop my head into my hands. So she lays a hand on mine, “He is going to get better, I promise Harry. We are going to help him. Don’t give up hope.”

“I’m not. It’s just sad seeing him so broken…”

~ * ~

True to my word just after Hermione has left again, I walk down to the room where I stored the two boxes with the few things left after the burning of the Manor. After ruffling through a bunch of paper I finally come across the stuffed dragon I remembered from the first time looking through the boxes. A sad smile comes to my face when I pull the toy out. It still mostly smells of fire and ashes. With a sigh I pull out my wand and mumble a few spells over the toy. I manage to clear it from the awful smell and change it to that of fresh grass. I run my hand over the back of the dragon where some of the green fabric has been rubbed off a bit.

The stuffed animal is soft and pleasant to the touch. I can’t stop myself from burying my face in it even though Draco’s smell is long gone. I sigh and close the box then leave the room again. Wanting to check up on Draco before I go to sleep, I carefully open the door. To my surprise I see grey eyes staring straight at me. I freeze and give him another sad smile. Then I decide to approach him. If he’s already awake I can give the dragon to him now.

“Hey Draco,” I say carefully as I kneel down next to him, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

He only blinks at me, not showing any other reaction. Nodding, I lean forward and help him sit up slightly, propped against the headboard. Then I pull the stuffed animal out from behind my back. He doesn’t turn his head towards me but blinks again. I lay the dragon in his arms.

“Draco, look at me please,” I push the animal into his hands, “Do you remember this? I think it is a toy from your childhood.”

His movement is slow but his right arm lifts and carefully his hand lands on the toy. He runs it up and down the dragon’s back, fingers trailing along the ridges on it. His wide eyes come up to meet mine and there is a clear question in it but I can’t really understand what exactly he wants to ask.

“Sorry, I don’t know what you are trying to tell me,” I shake my head.

A minuscule furrow appears on his brow then he lifts his right hand again, the left laying still as always. Then he slowly taps his own chest. I frown confusedly as well.

“Yes, it was yours I think. If that’s what you mean…” I answer.

But apparently it was the wrong question as he only narrows his eyes and taps his chest again. As I only look at him confused, he stares at me. Then he stretches his hand again and does something that could vaguely be interpreted as pointing of fingers. His fingers again splay over the dragon’s form, then again points at his own chest, the movement from the animal to himself a bit faster than usual which visibly needs focus from him. I frown until a sad idea comes to my mind.

“Are you asking whether you can have it?” I ask nervously.

He doesn’t do much but he blinks again and his good hand comes to lay still next to the stuffed animal on his lap. I take that as a yes and my chest clenches at the revelation. I sink down next to him and stroke his hand while a silent tear makes it’s way down my cheek.

“Of course you can have it,” I choke, “It’s been yours and now you can have it back. You might normally not be in the age for stuffed toys anymore, but right now you need the anchor. So you can have it for as long as you want. It’s yours until the day you don’t need it anymore.”

His hand comes back to slowly running over the dragon. He tilts his head at me in what I take as thanks. I smile when I see him focus on the toy, right hand closing around the animal. I smile a last time as I lean forward again to ease him down into the sheets again. He pulls the dragon to his chest, nose rubbing against the animal’s snout. He looks so much like a child in that moment it clenches my chest further. I stroke his hair until his eyes fall closed completely and his breathing evens out into calm sleep. Then I bend down, stopping just before pressing a kiss to his forehead like I do when I tuck in Teddy. But knowing he could react badly to the unexpected touch I instead straighten up and after another look to him, leave the room again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> I hope it's not too unbelievable with the stuffed dragon but it seemed a good first step to me.
> 
> Please review and see you next time.


	10. Looks like it helps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> unfortunately I still don't have a new laptop so updates will be rare until the middle of october. I deeply apologise ^^'
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, I don't even own a stuffed dragon.

I sleep badly that night, Draco’s unspoken question of whether he can keep something as simple as a stuffed toy haunting my dreams. I am not sure whether the scenes I see actually happened like that or are just figments of my imagination. How my brain sees Draco’s abuse. I see Lucius backhanding an about seven year old child. Narzissa who jumps between an elven year old Draco and his father’s wand, only to be pushed aside. These are just a few images that run through my mind that night.

Because of that I am understandably tired when I drag myself out of bed early the next morning. My first action is to get coffee. Normally I prefer tea but right now I am too tired to carry on without the bitter beverage. After taking a shower I set to prepare breakfast for myself and something simple for Draco. Hermione comes through the floo, yawning as well, just as I am finished wolfing down my own food.

“Morning,” I answer to her greeting.

She raises an eyebrow, “Wow, you look like shit today, Harry.”

“Nice to see you too, ‘Mione,” I chuckle, only to suppress another yawn, “I slept godawful last night.”

“Why?” he brow furrows, “Something happen to Draco?”

“Not really. I just discovered how deep his abuse really went,” I sigh wearily.

“I told you it was bad,” she agrees, “How is the rest working out? Did you find something to give him?”

“Yes, there was a stuffed dragon in the boxes you brought. I cleaned it up and gave it to him.”

“How did he react?”

A sad smile comes to my face, “Positive. At first he seemed very unsure but he managed to communicate whether he was allowed to keep it. And he reacted to it,  
running his right hand over it and pulling it to himself when he fell asleep.”

“That’s good,” she nods, “It’s a step in the right direction. More than we could hope for, I guess. If he at least tried to honestly communicate and not just sat there completely apathetic.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “Can you do me a favour and take the food to the living room? I will get Draco. I would like to get him to eat something before I leave for the lecture again.”

“Of course.”

I give her a thankful nod and leave the kitchen. Once I arrive in front of Draco’s room I take a deep breath as I do each morning and give a tentative knock on the door. Of course there is no reaction so I open the door on my own. Again the blonde seems to be awake already. He doesn’t seem to sleep much during the night but exhausts very easily in the day. But I also know that I have neither the time nor the strength to watch over him each night as well, so for now I will have to settle with making sure he is comfortable during the day and we can tackle his sleeping problems when he has started to recover. Shaking off these thoughts I wander over to the bed and kneel down, hand running through blond strands.

“Good morning Draco,” I say softly, “It’s time to get up. You have to eat something before I leave again.”

Of course he only stares at me in response. I can see the snout of the little dragon poking out under the blanket by his chest. He still has it pressed against his chest. I smile a little bit at that. Nonetheless I bend down and carefully straighten him up. With slow movements I animate him to help me lift him out of bed and onto his own feet. After wrapping a warm sleeping robe around him, I try to guide him to the door. Still I notice that he is even more reluctant than usual and his free right arm twitches back towards the bed unsurely. That’s when I notice that the dragon is still laying in the blankets. I give another sad smile and wandlessly summon the stuffed toy. As soon as it lands in my hand I press it back in his. His face twitches in what is his version of thanks, then he lets me lead him into the living room and his usual chair. There he presses animal back against his chest.

“I so can’t reconcile that picture with the annoying bastard I remember from our school days,” Hermione shakes her head, “The broken shell from before maybe. But this… He looks like a frightened little child.”

“Yeah, I understand what you mean,” I kneel down in front of his chair and take up a croissant to hand it to him, “Here Draco. Eat.”  
He carefully positions the dragon on his lap, giving it one last pat, before his right hand stretches out to the food again. But while usually he would be heading directly for the croissant, not that he normally moves far, today his hand seems to be going slightly past my outstretched one. At first I think that something is wrong or that he has problems focusing this morning. Then I realise that his hand, though shaky and unsure as if he questions whether he’s allowed to do that, is reaching in the direction of the tray with food still standing behind me on the table. I throw a look over my shoulder at it and a confused Hermione then back to the blonde.

“You want something else today?” I ask him.

For a moment he tilts his head in a confused or nervous gesture then blinks in a way that I have come to associate with his way of saying ‘yes’ to something. I smile. A small step, but it’s moving forward nonetheless. So I place the croissant back on the plate.

“What do you want then?” I ask, not really expecting an answer though.

And I don’t get one either, he just blinks another time. So I start pointing at things and wait for that blink to come again. Finally I settle on a handful of biscuits with chocolate which I originally bought for myself yesterday and only put them on the tray on a whim. But he blinks when I pick one up and so I hold it out to him. Luckily they are relatively soft in texture so they can’t hurt his teeth. His hand which has retreated to the stuffed animal again, comes slowly forward to take the first biscuit. I turn to smile at Hermione.

“I think having the dragon with him actually helps. Before he would never have refused anything or pointed at something. It’s a step right?”  
She gives me a soft smile back, “A small one, but yeah.”

I chuckle, “So should I buy a cat on my way home from the lecture today?”

“Not yet, I would say. As much as it might help, it could also be that he might also react negatively to another living, moving being in the house. And if it doesn’t work out you are stuck with a probably hyperactive kitten on top of taking care of him.”

“Okay, for now it’s the stuffed dragon then,” I smile at him as he finishes his biscuit and tentatively twitches with his hand towards the food tray for another. He doesn’t have the strength yet to get it himself so I grab behind me and hand it to him.

Breakfast passes in a comfortable atmosphere with Draco eating his little portion as every day and Hermione and me conversing about harmless topics. When I leave for my class I have a better feeling about leaving him in my friend’s care for a whole day than I did yesterday. As strange as it may sound at first, his childhood toy seems to anchor Draco and that is the most important thing we want for now. We can’t really help him if we can’t reach him because he has shut himself off.

And if I walk past several pet shops on my way home to stare at their display of cats and kittens, Hermione doesn’t have to know. To be honest I am looking forward to getting a little furball as well. But it’s true that it’s still too early for Draco, so true to my friend’s advice I leave it at the stuffed dragon for now.


	11. Perfect cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I finally got a new laptop. I'm still struggling a bit with it though so this chapter is still rushed.  
Not to mention I probably lost some data because my backup of the old one didn't work properly. At least my stories were saved on a seperate USB-stick, so they were safe ;)
> 
> Anyway, next chapter is here and I still don't own them.

And it is the right thing to do, I can see it. The dragon helps to stabilize Draco in the real world. Yes, he is still mostly apathetic, but at least he starts to communicate simple things like yes or no and when he wants something. Well, sometimes he does that, I can see the neglect and abuse he suffered in many of his actions. Also the way he clings to that little toy turns from endearing to painful after a certain time. There are times when he looks like he thinks that little inanimate thing is the only being that cares about him. 

He is making progress but it is only a tiny piece of all we have to achieve. He has still not made a single sound apart from a few whimpers, groans and sighs. His left hand hasn’t made more than a few twitches, it’s immobile no matter what I try. But I wouldn’t dare to push him again. I know that to cure him we still have a few episodes like that ahead of us, but he desperately doesn’t need me triggering even more than strictly necessary. And I don’t want to see that again either.

I remember when I forced him to take a bath again. He didn’t really twitch, letting me undress him without much more than going completely stiff. It was better than I expected. Until I tried to take the dragon away that is. Since the thing is a stuffed toy I didn’t want him taking it in the water. But when I lowered him into the tub and put the dragon away, he started to make small, unsure whimpers in the back of his throat. At the beginning I hesitated but when he went silent and only curled in on himself, I relented. I put a water repelling charm on the thing and handed it to him. I certainly won’t forget the look of joy on his face when it returned to his hands.

Just yesterday Hermione suggested we could take the next step. Start with living beings. It has been almost three weeks since we gave Draco the stuffed dragon and he took well to it, so it’s time to try the cat. 

That’s why I am currently standing in a muggle pet shop. We decided early on that we wanted a completely normal, nonmagical cat, so there is less of a chance it might scare Draco. But there are just so many! I never knew how many races of cats there are. Not to mention that this shop has every age, from kittens, still falling over each other, to older cats, who do nothing but bathe in the sunlight the whole day.

“Can I help you, sir?” a soft voice suddenly asks behind me.

I startle as I was so focused on the animals that I didn’t notice someone approaching. When I whirl around I am confronted with a woman who looks to be in her early thirties. Soft gold blonde hair falls in easy curls over her shoulders. Her blue eyes are looking at me with a curious expression, but open and relaxed. She is wearing an apron with the name of the store printed across it, so I assume she is working here.

“Err, yes,” I clear my throat, “I am looking for a cat.”

“I gathered that much, since you have been standing in front of them for over twenty minutes now. But apparently you can’t find one you like. None of them catching your eyes?” she smiles.

“That’s not it,” rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I avoid her eyes, “It’s just that I am looking for something pretty specific and I don’t know which cat is the right one.”

“Okay,” she steps forward, next to me, “Then let’s try to find the right one together, shall we? What are you looking for? Short hair? Long hair? Large or small cat?”

“Ah no,” I shake my head, “It’s not about what they look like. But certain character traits are indispensable for me. Unfortunately I can’t tell that by simply looking at the cats.”

“Right,” she gives me a nod, “That’s a bit more difficult to determine. Not impossible though. Can you be a bit more specific?”

“Okay, uhm,” I think for a moment, “I need a cat who is not easily startled. Not by sounds, strange smells or other beings. They also need to be very accepting of humans. If it is possible that they won’t try to scratch or bite even if someone doesn’t really know how to handle them,” I tilt my head, “And one that’s friendly, that they come to the human on their own but also won’t need too much attention.”

She chuckles, eyebrows raised, “You’re very specific and there are a lot of things to consider. May I ask what you need the cat for? Why are you buying one now?”

I give her a sad smile, “Well, I have a friend. He’s… in a very dark place right now, traumatised. He used to have a cat when he was younger so we thought getting one now might help him. But of course in such a case I can’t have one that startles with every jerk he makes or gets impatient when he doesn’t pay attention to it immediately. And since his trauma is also connected with physical pain, getting scratched might have adverse effects.”

Her face has been getting sadder too, “I understand. Give me a moment. I will look which of the cats might fit your profile.”

She shuffles around for a moment then she lifts a big white cat with different coloured patches of fur all over. She looks at me with dark eyes, purring a bit.

“That’s Daisy,” the shop worker explains, “She’s startled by nothing. A bit lazy perhaps but a nice cat.”

A bit tentatively I stroke the top of the animal’s head. She purrs but somehow it doesn’t feel right. So I shake my head slightly.

“I’m pretty sure she’s great. But uhm…” I think for a moment, “She’s very big. Maybe a cat that’s a bit smaller?”

She smirks and puts Daisy back into her cage, “I thought it didn’t matter what they looked like.”

“Yes, but it’s just, he’s not really up to strength yet and…” I babble.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to explain,” she waves it off and steps to another row of cages.

The next cat she shows me is a sleek black animal. She’s beautiful but her fluid movements give me a slight impression of snakes. And if even I think of that, I don’t want to risk Draco to be reminded of Nagini in the slightest. Better not bring in a potential trigger. She shows me several other cats after that but none really seem the right ones to me.

“Well, you are surely a difficult customer,” she smirks, “Maybe there is not the right cat for you here,” then she bites her lip, “But I have one last idea. Give me a second and wait here.”

I nod, a careful smile on my lips. She bustles away from me and somewhere further to the back. I wait patiently. A few moments later she comes back, something that looks like a white furball in her arms. She grins as she comes up to me. When she stops next to me, she holds the bundle of fur up to me. It turns out to be a young-looking cat with white fur, occasionally speckled with grey. Two bright blue eyes beam up at me and the small maw lets out a curious sound when the cat sees me. The shop keeper grins at me.

“That’s Dragon,” I can’t help but chuckle at the name, “He’s only three years old but he’s a very patient cat. I picked him for you because he doesn’t only fit your profile very well, but uh… You said your friend was traumatised, well, Dragon’s mother was killed not long after his birth and he was left alone. It might help. He’s a very affectionate cat and loves cuddling, but without being overbearing or getting violent if no one pays attention to him. So how do you find him?”

I stare at the relatively small cat, green eyes locking with blue. It meows at me. Carefully I extend my hands and the girl puts Dragon into them. The little cat wriggles in my arms until he is comfortable, then meows again. I smile and stroke one hand over his fur, which is immediately rewarded with a loud purr. My smile brightens. I don’t know how, but I’m sure this cat is the right one. I lift my eyes to the shop keeper.

“I will take him. He’s perfect,” I smile and Dragon purrs again.

A bright smirk comes to her face, “That’s great. I knew he would fit.”

“Then why wasn’t he the first cat you showed me?” I smirk as Dragon wriggles in my arms.

“Because he was in the back,” she grins then walks over to the front desk, “Okay, do you have everything for him at home?”

“Yes,” I nod, “I prepared already.”

“That’s good,” she takes out a stack of sheets, “Then you will now have to sign the papers for him.”

I nod and hand the cat back to her. Dragon gives a displeased huff but keeps still nonetheless. I fill the empty spaces on the stack of papers the shop keeper handed me. It takes me a few minutes and afterwards more words are exchanged and I pay for him.

Half an hour later finds me on my way home with Dragon happily laying in a transport cage. Since he is a nonmagical cat I didn’t want to force him through apparition already, so I am walking home. It’s not far after all. A twenty minute walk later lands me at Grimmauld Place again. I unlock the door, walk in and set the cage down. I hear rustling from within, indicating that Dragon has moved to peer through the bars at his new home. Just as I am pulling off my cloak, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. When I look up, my eyes catch with brown.

“Hello Hermione,” I say.

“Hi Harry. Found a cat?” she asks, motioning to the cage next to my feet.

I smirk, “Yeah,” bending down I lift the little bundle of fur out of his cage, “Hermione meet Dragon.”

“Dragon?” she chuckles, “Seriously?”

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need,” I grin and hand the cat over to her inspection, “A dragon to help another dragon.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she smiles down at the little cat, who is purring as the girl rubs his back, “So you wanna take him straight to Draco?”

I shrug, “He seems comfortable enough. Where is Draco?”

“In the living room. He made it clear that he didn’t want to sleep more.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiles, “At least he isn’t content to stay in bed the whole day anymore.”

“Okay, let’s introduce our new guest to him,” I smile, strange excitement cursing through my veins. As I walk past Hermione, I stroke a finger over Dragon’s head, “And you be good for him, alright?”

The cat only purrs and pushes against my hand. I take it as an agreement and walk to the stairs. The girl follows me, furball still in her arms. I motion her to wait for a moment in once we reach the door to the living room and enter first. Draco is sitting slumped in his chair as usual. His long blond hair is combed and pulled back, fresh but simple clothes hanging off his still bony figure. He doesn’t really react when I enter, just keeps running his fingers over the stuffed dragon still in his lap. I kneel in front of him as I do often to be in his line of sight.

“Hey, Draco,” his eyes get slightly more focused but he doesn’t move, “I’m back,” he just blinks, “And I brought you something. Rather someone who wants to meet you, okay?” he blinks but does nothing more, “Is it alright if I take your dragon for a moment?”

We have been training with him so we can take the toy from him for a short amount of time. It wouldn’t do to have him stuck to it forever. So he only twitches momentarily when I carefully push his hand from the dragon. I take the stuffed animal up and set it on the table out of his reach. It only earns me a blank stare from him. I try to smile and stand up to head over to the girl. She hands me the little cat with an apprehensive face.

“It’s going to work out,” she repeats and I nod.

Returning to Draco, I kneel in front of the blonde. Dragon wriggles in my arms. I put a hand on the other boy’s. Grey eyes blink once.

“Hey Draco,” I try to catch his attention, “I brought a new friend for you,” nothing more than another blink, “Do you remember the cat you had when you were young? I think she was called Dhalia,” I exchange a look with Hermione, “So I thought maybe a new cat could be a nice friend for you.”

That seems to have earned me his attention as he makes an effort to slowly turn his head towards me. Grey orbs fix on the bundle of fur in my arms. I smile and lift the cat who turns curious bright blue eyes on the still human.

“This is Dragon,” I explain, “I hope you two will get along well.”

Draco doesn’t make any move towards the cat. The animal gives out a meow, like he is trying to catch the blonde’s attention too. As usual his only answer is another blink. Careful of Draco’s expression I lower the furball onto his lap. But he doesn’t seem to react negatively. Unfortunately he doesn’t really react at all. Just watches me put the cat on his legs. Not even his functioning hand is lifted towards the animal. Apparently Dragon refuses to accept that though and instead of just laying there like he did with Hermione and me, he gets up on his paws and does the two steps across Draco’s thin legs. Once he reaches the bony hand, he energetically bumps his head against it.

And indeed it works. After a few times of this, Draco’s head turns down to the little animal who meows when he feels the grey eyes settle on him. Another bump and the right hand lifts again. Dragon purrs and rubs his head against the pale skin. The blonde’s movements are slow and unsure as he runs it up and down the cat’s head, but the animal rewards him with a loud purr nonetheless. It’s like Dragon can understand how damaged Draco is and purposely encourages him. I smile and turn around to my friend who has come closer by now.

“It seems to work out perfectly,” I grins.

She nods, face thoughtful though, “I agree. This is a great start and I don’t want to worry you. However don’t be too careless. Like his condition, the way he reacts to Dragon could change within the span of hours. He’s not stable enough yet to hold a mood.”

I nod, but the smile never leaves my face, “I know. Believe me I didn’t forget that. But we have to be happy about the small steps he takes. And that is one of those steps. There is a difference between an unmoving toy and an actual animal. So I will stick to that for today and think about his next breakdown after I woke him up tomorrow.”

Hermione laughs, “Yes, you’re right. For now enjoy that peaceful picture. By the way, Dragon seems to know exactly what Draco needs. It looks like you chose the perfect cat for our patient.”

“I agree.”

Then it fades into silence, both of us watching the blonde slowly run his fingers through white fur, accompanied by loud purring from the content cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Yes, I am very imaginative when it comes to naming, aren't I? *facepalm*  
But somehow it sounded appropriate when I wrote it and if I changed it now it would only lead to chaos.
> 
> I would also like to point out that I have never adopted nor bought a pet, never even owned anything larger than a goldfish, so I do not know the procedures for getting a pet.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Comments and kudos are always appreaciated and see you next time.


	12. Current state

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> laptop is mostly working but I don't have internet where I'm living during the week, so updates will be mostly confined to the weekends until my roommate finally gets the router. Currently I am leeching off my university's wifi ;)
> 
> Sorry for the still slow updates.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos nonetheless
> 
> Disclaimer: The two of them have never been mine, just Dragon is.

Dragon spends the rest of the afternoon and evening on Draco’s lap even though the blonde stops his stroking relatively soon. Instead he is staring into the distance, probably seeing things only he can perceive. I vacate to the opposite sofa with a book about trauma treatment. Somewhere around five o’clock in the evening my patient dozes off, head slumped against the soft chair. The cat notices that and contentedly rolls himself together on the other’s lap. I wake him up again for a light dinner and a short wash then bring him back to his room. Dragon tries to follow us but I’m not sure whether that’s a good idea so I push the cat out again. Draco is reaching for his stuffed toy anyway.

Unfortunately not everything goes perfect as Draco proves to me on the afternoon two days after Dragon’s arrival. I have just brought him back to the living room from a nap after lunch. Hermione and I have been trying to establish a clear daily routine for him to make him feel safer. The nap is part of that. After seating him in his usual chair, I leave for the kitchen to prepare some tea. Only to be startled out of my peace when a loud crash sounds from the other direction. It is followed by a surprised hiss and something that sounds like a squeak. Immediately I am on full alert.

Following the sound, I hurry out of the kitchen, teapot forgotten on the stove. A short race later lands me in the living room, looking at a not exactly comforting picture. Draco is curled in his chair, legs pulled close to his chest. A fine trembling is running over his form and his eyes are squeezed shut. Dragon is huddled under the table in front of him. The cat looks severely startled but he is already creeping out and back to the blonde again. With curiosity I watch the animal’s actions as he carefully pads towards Draco, who doesn’t seem to be registering anything going on around him. I want to help him right now, but decide to watch whether Dragon can bring him out of it on his own. The cat has reached the chair by now and gets on his hindpaws to reach the soles of the boy’s feet. He manages to nuzzle his nose against the skin. But all it earns him it another frightened squeak and Draco curling in even further (if that’s possible). The cat instinctively does a jump backwards and stares at the human with confused eyes. I sigh and walk into the room. Bending down I scoop up the small animal and deposit him on the couch.

“Draco isn’t so well today, little one. I’m sorry,” I turn to my patient, “Stay there, Dragon. I will take Draco back to bed and you can cuddle with him again tomorrow.”

Hoping the cat actually does as told, I focus instead on the blonde in front of me. I kneel down before him and take his shaking right hand in mines. He twitches at the contact but shows little action of pulling away. Not that he ever tries very hard. I don’t want to think about whether that’s because he’s still too weak to get enough strength together or because he was conditioned to not resist.

“Hey Draco,” I say softly. We made progress and by now he can recognise at least his own name most of the time, “Draco, look at me,” it gets me little more reaction than his eyes opening a tiny slit before squeezing closed again. I rub a thumb over the back of his hand, “It’s just me, Draco. I promise here is nobody who wants to hurt you. I swear to you,” hurriedly making a few motions with my hand I manage to summon his stuffed toy. I take the soft item and manage to wriggle it between his chest and clenched legs. I hear a soft breath when he presses his face into the fabric, “See. Nothing to hurt you. Just look at me again please,” I rub my free hand up and down his arm. 

I learned early that touching his arm is a safe action as long as I avoid his wrists, especially putting pressure on them. I pinned his right hand down once to keep him from hurting himself. It only got me an even worse panic attack and he passed out a few moments later. But what is worse are areas like his legs or chest. Unless absolutely necessary I avoid touching him anywhere like that. He jumps, scares or freezes way too fast there. Another thing we have to work on.

Eventually though, after minutes of rubbing his arms and cuddling into his stuffed toy, he relaxes slowly again. His legs uncurl and fall back down, basically landing on my lap. His posture calms as well, a soft breath leaving him. I smile and take his hand to me, massaging it. His grey eyes connect with my gaze too. The panic is still caught in the deep orbs but it is starting to fade thankfully.

“Did Dragon scare you, Draco?” I smile softly. To my surprise it earns me a huff and I laugh in happiness, “I am taking that as a no even though it was the reason. Don’t worry,” I rub the back of his hand again, “Completely normal. After months without any social contact it’s not surprising that suddenly having another living being apart from me here might startle you,” he sags into the cushioning of his chair and turns his gaze away. I shake my head amusedly then tug on his arm, “Come on. That was enough excitement for today. How about we get you back to your own room?” he stares at me, “Without any pesky cats trying to get your attention, right?” I tease him but he only tilts his head.

“Right, sarcasm is still beyond you,” I murmur as I help him onto his feet. It takes him a few moments to get his balance again, but he has gotten much better at walking and moving in general. For one he is getting proper nourishment and at least a small bit of exercise each day. Hermione told me that I will have to consider physiotherapy for him at some point but that’s still in the future. I am hoping that he will gain that during horse therapy, judging from what I read about it while researching it. For now though we are working on him walking the distance from his bedroom to the living room on his own. Right now I am still supporting him, but mostly to make sure he doesn’t fall and give him the strength his muscles don’t have yet.

Eventually we reach his room again. I lower him on the bed and he lays down on his own. His apathy is starting to wear off, slowly though. He is mostly only reacting to himself unfortunately. Outside influences like other people or his environment are still basically non-existent to him. Well, like I told Hermione, every step forward, no matter how small, is progress.

“Do you need anything else?” I ask before I leave the room again.

He seems to think for a moment and I keep silent, knowing he needs his time to respond. Eventually though his face scrunches up. A bony hand stretches out and does a vague motion in the direction of the stack of books on a small table opposite his bed.

“A book?” I ask and at a blink I start lifting one book after another until he gives me the same pronounced blink.

Unsurprised it is what has turned out to be his favourite book nowadays. None of the books I have here for him have much text in it as neither of us is sure whether he is currently capable of reading. What I hold in my hand is an encyclopaedia of the different kinds of horses with photos over photos of the proud animals. With a soft smile I put the book on his lap. Since he still doesn’t use his left hand, he can’t really hold it.

“Alright,” I say as I stand up while he focuses on the book, “I will leave you be for now. Rest up. I will get you for dinner,” I stroke his hair a last time before I finally leave the room.

Returning to the living room I am greeted by a petulantly mewling Dragon. He is staring up at me with demanding eyes. I snort and bend down to lift him into my arms, stroking the cat’s back.

“Sorry, little one, if he startled you too. Draco has a lot of difficulties and sometimes he just reacts negatively to any other presence,” I bring the animal up in front of my face, “And that’s why you have to be careful with him, understood?” As if he is reacting to my words, Dragon mews and his small tongue flicks out to run over my nose. I chuckle, “I take that as a yes. So how about we find you something to play with?”

Another meow has me grinning and I spend the rest of the afternoon playing with our new cat until it is time to check up on Draco again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Next update most likely on saturday. See you then.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated


	13. A first set-back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> well, it's Sunday, not Saturday, but my parents decided that yesterday was the perfect time to restock our firewood.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine.

Unfortunately this single occurrence turns out to be more of a set-back than I originally suspected. As well as Draco took to the cat the first days after his arrival, after being scared by the little animal once he starts to develop a tendency to act twitchy around Dragon. Luckily the cat is persistent and patient and manages most of the times to eventually climb on the blonde’s lap and be petted. Every time he manages that, Draco too becomes calmer for the rest of the day.

All in all Dragon is a good next step and Draco’s responsiveness is slowly increasing as well. He is relearning to walk on his own. We are making progress, in tiny steps, but we are. The blonde has gotten so much better in the three weeks since we got the cat, that I have been considering starting the horse therapy soon. But of course I should have known. It was going too perfectly and new problems wouldn’t be long in the waiting.

And eventually something goes wrong again. It’s when I am leading Draco back from his second visit to the library the house has. About a week ago he managed to communicate that he wants to go to a library. Since I can’t bring him outside the small one in Grimmauld Place will have to do. He seemed happy about it either way. It took us quite some time to get him there, because he is still walking very slowly even with my support and he shied a few times which meant we had to take a break or even backtrack. I found out he doesn’t particularly like portraits.

Anyway, we had just left the library when I hear a knock on the front door. It’s enough to make the blonde stiffen. I groan, there is a reason I told everyone to send a notice before actually coming over. Since I can’t just leave Draco alone in the middle of the hallway, I just ignore the knocking and walk him to his room instead. But apparently the person outside the door has never heard of patience before and in the two minutes it takes me and the blonde to reach the end of this corridor and turn a corner, they have stopped knocking. Only to have something like a shrill bell ring through the house. The first time it sounds, Draco nearly does a jump into the air. His eyes go wide, head thrown upwards. His breathing is getting faster, nostrils flaring nervously. Casting a pissed glare towards the door, I start rubbing his back and murmuring comforting words but it isn’t enough. I can feel him get worse next to me as I urge him to go faster so we can reach his room soon and can get him away from the sound. And then suddenly the last straw comes.

“Harry Potter. I am from the Ministry of Magic. Come to the door now. I have questions you need to answer,” a voice booms through the house. Damned magic sometimes!

Draco screams.

The moment the loud voice said ‘ministry’, he started to scream. He throws his panicked weight in the opposite direction of me, nearly upsetting every balance either of us had. It’s the first time I have heard him make more than grunts, squeals or hums but that just makes it worse. His voice is higher pitched than I remember. His body is shaking once more and he is fighting my grip. In a different situation I would be happy about how much activity he is showing but right now all I want is for him to stop.

The voice is about to sound again which causes a momentary distraction for me and Draco manages to rip himself away from me. He can’t support himself tough and lands face first on the carpeted floor. For a second I have trouble sorting out my thoughts and am entirely frozen in place. Then my fighting instinct takes over and the first thing I do is casting a silencio around us so the voice is not heard anymore. Unfortunately it does nothing to calm Draco down. He is trying his best to scramble away on the ground. He is still screaming and whimpering, eyes wide and hands shaking. Hurriedly I kneel in front of him and touch his right arm, but all he does is jump, release a new scream and huddle away from me. I sigh and run a hand down my face. Only one option left. Forcefully put him to sleep once more.

Eventually he is sleeping and as calm as he can get, no matter how much it pains me to have to force it on him again. Carefully I lift him up into my arms. He is still scarily light. Ignoring the pushing against my wards I carry the unconscious boy back to his room and settle him into bed, softly tucking him in. He breathes a sigh of relief when the blanket settles around him and I press the stuffed dragon we left in the library into his arms. I stroke his hair and kiss his forehead before I leave him. Not before putting two charms around his room though. One to shield him from any sounds coming from the outside and the other to alert me should something change in his state.

Draco settled again, my face turns into a mask of anger. I grip my wand tighter and stomp to my front door. Whoever that stupid ministry employee is, is going to hear the rant of his life. After days of emotional torment watching Draco go forward in small steps and now to might have torn it down in just a few minutes because he couldn’t wait a few fucking moments for me to answer the door. Especially because I noticed that while Draco only takes tiny steps forward, reverting back to worse is idiotically easy and a small incident can turn weeks of work obsolete. With that in mind I rip the door open violently and throw my magic (already starting to get out of control again) at the jerk. At least he does a step back.

“Now listen!” I growl, “I have a very unstable person in my house who just had a severe panic attack because you couldn’t fucking wait a few minutes until I opened. I see not a single reason to yell through my house like that. Not to mention that the ministry itself is mostly responsible for how bad a state he is really in, you respectless jerk.”

“I am from the ministry,” he says with a nervous voice, “I have important – “

“I don’t give a flying fuck!” I interrupt him, growling, “The ministry knows about my roommate, so I don’t care in the least what kind of business you have. I won’t answer one fucking question until they send someone with at least a sense of decency and compassion. Not to mention the little thing called patience. And if I see or hear from you ever again I am telling the minister to throw you out. Am I making myself clear?”

He is gaping at me, completely frozen. I take that as a yes and slam the door in his face. Just to convey my anger further, I forcefully erect new wards which throw the ministry employee right on his ass in the middle of the sidewalk. I huff as soon as that is done. But then Draco’s picture reappears in my mind and all anger leaves my body and I slump against the door. Burrowing my face in my hands I groan. All I can do it hope is that the set-back from today’s incident won’t be too bad. Tiredly I send off a message to Hermione before I manage to sort my limbs out and walk upstairs to Draco’s room again. On the way there I summon myself a hot chocolate. I need the comfort.

Draco is laying still, as apathetic in sleep as he was the first few days he was here. If the set-back was that bad, I’m honestly not entirely sure whether Hermione was not right in her suggestion, no matter how much it pains me. Body and mind drained I fall down on the bed next to the blonde. I stare at him, his fine cut face slowly becoming beautiful once more since he is starting to fill out again and is getting a skin colour close to healthy back. I sigh and stroke his hair and cheek, chocolate left on the bedside table.

~ * ~

I hadn’t planned on falling asleep, especially not next to Draco on the same bed but apparently I did, since I feel Hermione shaking me awake. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Draco’s pale face, slack in sleep. I startle in surprise only to come nose to nose with Hermione’s concerned expression. Her hair is completely out of control around her head.

“Everything okay, Harry?” she looks me up and down, “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m okay,” I waved tiredly, “Come on, let’s go somewhere we won’t wake anyone.”

She nods, “Sure,” and holds out a hand to help me from the bed.

I give her an exhausted smile then stand up, accepting her hand. After a last stroke to Draco’s face I follow her out of the room and down into the kitchen where she busies herself with making tea with honey for the both of us while I tell her the story from the afternoon. Her scowl is heavy on her face when she settles on the chair next to me, sipping on her drink.

“The ministry should know better. They really should have chosen somebody else. I just hope it didn’t hit Draco too hard,” she sighs, mussing up her hair even further.

“So do I. He did look pretty bad at that moment though,” I hang my head.

“At least he screamed this time. He made his panic air instead of swallowing it down. Should we count this as a victory?” she wearily tries to see the positive side.

“Maybe, but I would very much like a different victory,” I snort.

“I agree without a doubt,” she nods then suddenly grips one of my hands, “But you look not that much better than him, Harry. You should take better care of yourself.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” I reply sarcastically.

“I’m being honest. That’s part of my job as a friend, keeping you from being stupid. You’ve been running yourself ragged over Draco. And while I get that you desperately want to help him, you need a break, Harry. You are too close to him, too sympathetic in general so it’s extremely hard on you. You need to take a few days off.”

“Sure. Even if I did, I would just spend all my time worrying about him either way,” I snort, “Not to mention I want to be there when he becomes conscious again after today’s event to see how bad he really is.”

“I get it and I won’t stop you,” she grips my hands to keep me from pulling away, “But once we have assessed the damage and gotten him stable again, you take a weekend of free time, am I making myself clear? Visit Andromeda, spend time with Teddy or visit some interesting site, preferably on the other side of the world. Take your mind off Draco for a few days and then you can come back to him. It will be easier for you to help him as well without looking like you’ve been to hell and back. Not to mention a clear head.”

I want to argue but her eyes are blazing so all I can do is nod and agree.


	14. Questioning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> new chapter. Next one is going to be during this weekend too.  
Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: The two are not mine.

So the next morning finds me sitting anxiously on Draco’s bedside. My wards didn’t give any alert during the night so he should still be calm. Hermione is here as well. But she is still sleeping.

Eventually I see his figure stiffening and I know he’s waking up. Immediately I am halfway on the bed, just being able to stop myself because he might scare from someone too close when he wakes up. Watching him closely, I see grey eyes slide cautiously open.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice that they are a far call from how apathetic he was when he arrived. It seemed like the backlash from this incident luckily wasn’t that massive. Instead I kneel down in front of him.

“Draco? Good morning. Can you hear me?” I ask carefully.

He blinks in this manner of his, signifying yes. I smile softly, tenseness leaving me and slumping down. To my surprise I feel a cold hand on my neck once again. I twitch a moment, then my smile widens and I cover the pale hand to warm it up.

“Yes, good morning to you too. I am glad you are back. Do you want breakfast?”

He doesn’t answer, barely reacts to my question but I didn’t expect differently. So I step forward and carefully help him to manoeuvre himself out of bed and onto his own feet. He complies but his own actions are smaller than they were before. Of course, it had to have some kind of set-back. Nothing would have been too perfect after all. Nonetheless I am glad he’s still mostly the same. Lifting him on his feet, I carefully start to lead him to the living room. He seats himself in his chair and presses the dragon he brought with him against his chest. The cat at least is still somewhere else in the house. As good as he is, I don’t need him possibly startling Draco further.

At least he’s calm, I feared he would be worse. But when I ask him what he wants to eat he doesn’t point at it anymore, like he started to in the last days. Instead we have to go through the longer routine of me picking everything up and him conveying ‘yes’ or ‘no’. In the end it still works out and he is peacefully munching on a biscuit when Hermione stumbles in tiredly. The door opening a bit quickly, startles Draco once more and he drops his food. I sigh and run a calming hand up and down his arm. Soon he accepts a new biscuit and eats it slowly. The girl seats herself on the sofa furthest from the blonde, a cup of coffee in her hands.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Better than expected, I guess,” I answer with a scowl on my forehead, “I mean, he’s still responsive. Granted he lost some things but all in all I think it could have been worse.”

“That’s good,” she gives a soft smile.

We quiet down again, everybody eating their breakfast. After he is finished, I help Draco back to his feet and lead him to his room. He follows without protest. But before I lower him onto his bed, he throws his arm out. It’s vague and I have to do some guesswork until I manage to work out from the hints he gives that he wants his favourite book again.

Later that day, when I am about to walk to the kitchen to decide what to make for lunch, I suddenly feel a careful prodding at my front wards. I sigh, running a hand through my chaotic hair, and glare towards the entrance. Well, at least this one is polite enough. Let’s just hope that Draco doesn’t hear our visitor. He’s still incredibly skittish with new persons.

Ron visited us three weeks ago. Thankfully Draco wasn’t in the living room when the red head fell out of the floo but we ran into him when he tried to find me. The blonde nearly did a jump backwards. He was rigid the whole time and looked ready to either flee or panic and curl up any moment. Since then we have been careful not to let him see any visitors, no matter who it was. Andromeda wanted to see him once when she came with Teddy. He is her nephew after all. He was sleeping deeply at the time so I brought her to his room. She broke into tears at the sight of his state. But apart from that and the occasional visit from Hermione, we keep him away from everyone else.

So I glare as I stomp down to the front door. Scowl clear on my face, I open it. The man in front of it is wearing the ministry garb too, but luckily it’s a different one from last time. I would have cursed that jerk into next week. Instead the guy bows his head politely, despite being clearly startled.

“My name is Sergio Danito, I’m from the ministry of magic.”

“Yes, I can see that,” I wave him off, “What do you want?”

“For one, I should apologize for the behaviour of my colleague yesterday,” he bows his head.

“That’s for sure,” I snort, “He should have known that I have an unstable person here. Not to mention that common decency dictates to wait for someone to come to the door to begin with.”

“I agree. My apologies,” Sergio repeats, “He has been punished. Nonetheless there are a few question we would like you to answer if it’s okay.”

“Depends on the questions and the reasons you have for asking them,” I cross my arms.

“If I may come in?” the man asks.

“Preferably not. I still have him here,” my tone is cold.

“I understand that. However what I have to ask is not something you might want to discuss out on the street,” he tries to be polite.

I sigh, “Fine,” and wave him past me, “But down in the kitchen,” he nods and I lead him into the old room after closing the door.

There I lean against one of the counters. He seems indecisive for a moment then seats himself on one of the wooden chairs. At first he looks like he expects me to offer him something to drink out of decorum, especially with the half-filled coffee pot still sitting behind me. But after what the last ministry employee pulled, there is no chance. Eventually he clears his throat.

“What do you want then?” I say before he can.

He purses his lips, “I am sorry to intrude upon you like that,” he forces out politely, “It’s about the Malfoys. The ministry was hoping Draco could answer some questions.”

My hand clenches, “There is no chance Draco can answer anything. So I’m afraid you’re out of luck. It’s the ministry’s own fault for breaking him after all.”

“Yes and I understand that,” he nods, “So I hope you at least would give some answers.”

“Like I said, depends…” I repeat, “Why are you asking questions about the Malfoys?”

“Are you aware that their trial is being reopened?”

“Yes, my friend Hermione is the one who started to work towards that.”

“Correct,” he nods, “Since it is being investigated anew and thanks to the insistence of Mrs Granger, we are following every trail of information.”

“You mean the ministry is trying to do it right this time because they don’t want to face the debacle they will have if it comes out that they didn’t investigate correctly,” I correct, which earns me another pursed lip.

“Yes, that too. My opinion as well, if you ask me. But it’s still my boss,” he shrugs.

I nod in response. Maybe this one is not such an ass then, “So what do you want to ask.”

“Okay, first. You have known Draco Malfoy for quite some time, right? How did you meet him?”

“And that’s important because?” I can’t help but ask.

“It’s to establish the basics after you spoke up for him at the trial,” he explains patiently.

“Fine. Yes, I met him on our first day of Hogwarts. No, actually the first time I saw him was in Madam Malkin’s but I didn’t know who he was then.”

“But you two didn’t get along as far as I heard. Opposite houses and constant fights and so on…”

I sigh, “Yes, he was a right asshole at that time. Typical pureblood upbringing. He thought he was better than everybody else. I refused to let him drag me with him. Probably bruised his ego and he was pissed at me from that on.”

“So no offense, uhm, I have to ask that. When did you start to like him?”

“Would you mind specifying that?” my brow furrows.

“You were enemies and now you’re taking care of him. What changed your opinion towards him?” he carefully phrases it differently.

“Okay,” I nod, “I couldn’t pinpoint that even if I tried. It started out in sixth year when I saw how bad he looked. Over the time until the end of the war I discovered that he didn’t want to be a death eater at all. I understand being forced into your role and probably started to feel some kind of kinship to him. I spoke for him at the trials because the truth had to be brought out and when I saw the injustice done to him, I tried my best to find a way to get him out of prison. When I managed to and he was in no shape to take care of himself I took him in.”

“What exactly is his state? The ministry never got a medical report.”

“Because it is not their business. It’s the ministry’s fault he is that bad.”

“I agree, but could you at least outline his medical state.”

“He’s scarred all over his body, has been starved and even raped by who I suspect were prison guards from Azkaban,” I see him swallow uncomfortably, “He has several mental problems that I can’t list from the top of my head. All I know that the list is long.”

“And that’s all from his time in Azkaban? He was there for only two years after all,” he fidgets with the clipboard in his hands.

“It was still the lowest level,” I glare angrily at him, “Not to mention that he was probably unstable as it was before his imprisonment. That just made it much worse.”

“Unstable? How?”

“Do we really have to go into this? It’s an invasion of his personal sphere if you ask me,” I frown.

“I know. Just a short answer, maybe? Otherwise the question is going to come up in the middle of the trial and you might prefer not to say it in front of countless people.”

“He was abused since early childhood, alright? Verbally, physically abused, neglected and controlled by his father, Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa wrote it in her diary which Hermione found.”

“I’m sorry,” I averts his eyes, “I didn’t know.”

“No one did,” I agree.

“Thank you. Now let’s change the topic. You spoke up for him at his first trial. You said he saved you, correct?”

“Yes, during the time my friends and I spent running, we made the mistake of saying Voldemort’s name. That alerted some of his goons to us. They found us, caught us and brought us to Malfoy Manor. There they pushed Draco forward to identify whether it’s actually me since Hermione had used a curse on me. If he had told them that it was me, because I’m sure he recognised me, then they would have called Voldemort and he would have killed us all. It would have been over,” I pause for a moment, dots connecting in my mind, “Now that I think about it, the war would have been over if he had correctly identified me at that point. But he didn’t. He said he couldn’t be sure. I’m certain he didn’t get off lightly when we escaped later on and all of them saw clearly that it was indeed me.”

“That shows a different side of his story, that’s for sure,” he nods contemplatively, “And at Hogwarts?”

“He sneaked up on me and got me at wandpoint with my back to him. He had enough time to kill or at least stun me but he didn’t. Instead he waited until Hermione came around the corner and fired a spell at him.”

“So he was at the final battle?”

“He was there before the battle. Whether he fought, I can’t say, but I doubt it since I stole his wand and he lost his mother’s.”

“Alright. He was charged with murder but you insisted that he couldn’t kill anyone. Do you have proof?”

“Of course not, how am I supposed to prove something like that,” I frown at him, “I just know that the evening when he was supposed to kill Dumbledore he couldn’t do it, despite the death eaters around him forcing him forward. Even with the threat to his life hanging over him he didn’t want to kill anyone in cold blood. So yes, he has committed some smaller crimes but none of the major ones all listed in his charges.”

“You also presented new evidence that he worked as a spy during the war, do you know more about that?”

“Nothing more than I could read in the reports of which I have already sent a copy to the minister. The only ones apart from Draco himself who can tell us more about this are already dead, I’m afraid.”

He nods, making more notes on his board. Since he stays silent for a longer time I raise a brow, “Was that all?”

His head shoots up in surprise then he nods again, “Yes, for now that’s enough. Thank you for your time, Mr Potter.”

“You’re welcome, just make sure you don’t send any more idiots to my doorstep.”

That draws a chuckle out of him as he stands up, “I will convey your message.”

I escort him to the front door and outside. After I have shut the door I walk back to check on Draco again.


	15. Everyone needs a break at some point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you very much for all the comments and kudos (sorry for forgetting to say this in the last chapers).
> 
> Disclaimer: They are not mine.

Since Draco turns out better than we expected and allows Dragon back on his lap after only about two hours of careful prodding by the cat and three fright moments, Hermione forces me to take a break two days later. It’s weekend anyway. I can’t think of anything else and I want to be close should something go wrong either way, so I decide to visit Andromeda. I haven’t seen Teddy, my godson, for way too long. We couldn’t bring him here after all, not without another adult and Draco is a fulltime job to begin with. The risk that he would scare Draco and cause some kind of attack was too high or even the other way around. No need to traumatise Teddy with his cousin who currently looks like a ghost.

That’s what has me stumbling out of the floo in Andromeda’s house this Friday afternoon. She is already waiting for me, soft smile on her face.

“Hello Harry. Long time no see.”

I smile back, “That’s true. Sorry, I didn’t want to leave Draco on his own.”

“It’s no problem,” she waves off as she steps close and envelopes me into a hug, “I’m just glad you’re here now and that he is being taken care of.”

“Yeah,” I hug her back and she keeps me like that for a moment before she pulls away again.

“So how is he?”

“Draco? Better I would like to say,” I sigh, following her in sitting on one of the sofas, “We had a setback three days ago though.”

“What happened?” she frowns.

“Some rude ministry employee decided it was a good idea to yell right through the house because I didn’t come to the door fast enough. Draco heard it obviously and panicked. I had to force him asleep. But he came out of it better than we hoped. I wouldn’t have come if he was too bad.”

She nods, “I’m glad.”

But before either of us can say anything more, a shrill cry sounds through the air. Andromeda grimaces, “Teddy is up,” not that it gets more than a chuckle from me, “I will get him.”

I stay silent and let myself fall back into the soft couch, eyes closing. On one hand I definitively do enjoy a bit of time without having to worry about Draco all the time, however I don’t really manage my thoughts to leave him. Luckily I am interrupted once again when Andromeda comes back, carrying a still sleepy Teddy in her arms. Nonetheless he squeals when he sees me, his hair turning black. He wriggles in his grandmother’s hold until she sighs and simply deposits him in my lap.

“Hawwy!” he grins, hands reaching to pull at my unruly hair, “You come!”

“Yes, I came, Teddy,” I smile, ruffling his strands while still holding him a bit away from me to save myself from an aching scalp, “Sorry for not visiting for so long. I still missed you.”

“You too,” he grins up at me, “Where is?”

“I told you last time that I had to take care of your cousin Draco, didn’t I?”

“Dako not good?” he gives me a sad pout.

“Unfortunately,” I stroke his back, “But he will be better.”

“Good!” he smiles, “He play with me?”

I can’t help but chuckle, “We will see. You will have to ask him that yourself when it’s time.”

“You play now!” he demands instead.

I laugh, “Okay. Let’s play little one.”

Andromeda smiles indulgently behind us as I slide down to the floor together with Teddy. Immediately he picks some of his toys up and thrusts them at me. I grin and start following his instructions in how he wants this game to go. The older woman leaves at some point and half an hour later I can smell delicious aromas coming from the kitchen.

Eventually I have to break Teddy from his playing to get him to eat dinner. Not to mention getting food for myself. It tastes as good as it smelled and I enjoy a happy and carefree meal for once without having to coax a silent participant to eat at least a bit. After food my attention is once again diverted by Teddy who demands I play with him. I indulge him of course, his cheery attitude so different from my usual companion. It ends up being me tucking him into bed as well. After the toddler is peacefully asleep, I join Andromeda for a drink and some calm in the living room, in front of the fire place.

“So he is really getting better?” her surprising question brings my thoughts immediately back to the subject I have been trying to unsuccessfully avoid in the last hours.

I sigh, “Yeah. Tiny steps, but he is getting better.”

“That boy lived through a lot of trauma. It’s not going to go away from one day to the other.”

“I know and I never expected him to. Just sometimes…” I drag a hand down my face, “Sometimes I wish it would go faster.”

“We always do that when someone we care about is in a bad place,” she smiles sadly and pats my arm.

“It’s not only that. I can see that he is still suffering. I want that to stop. Despite the fact that I still don’t know everything, he has been through enough. Too much and I am talking from experience…” I sigh, my eyes downcast.

“All of your generation has been through enough,” Andromeda frowns, “No one should force children to fight in a war.”

“We were off age,” I throw her an amused look.

“During the final battle,” she corrects me, “Not to mention that you were still only seventeen, so still kids if you ask me.”

“Of course,” I agree to stop her from releasing a rant on me, “But I am talking more about the abuse Narcissa’s diary spoke of. I read up a bit on domestic abuse since I got that information and in my opinion that is one of the worst things you can do to someone. Hurting a stranger or in anger is something else than purposefully abusing someone who trusts you.”

“The basics are still simply pureblood upbringing,” the woman shrugs sadly, “The rigorous training and punishment if you did something wrong, it’s simple upbringing in pureblood society. Granted abuse was always frowned upon but an occasional beating if you did something severely wrong wasn’t as uncommon as you might wish. I am sure though Lucius pushed it far past anything socially acceptable even for a strict pureblood family,” she purses her lips sadly, tears threatening her eyes, “That boy really got nothing but bad luck in his life, didn’t he?” after a careful agreement from me the hint of a smile makes it back on her face, “But at least now he has you.”

“I guess?” I am not entirely sure what I am supposed to say to this and I’m sure you can hear it in my voice.

She chuckles, “Of course. A determined boy who loves him and would give everything to finally allow him to live the life he ever wanted and never could have before.”

“Be quiet,” I just know my cheeks are bright red, “You sound like some cheesy romance novel. And I’m not in love with him.”

“Oh yes you are,” she laughs, “Don’t take me for stupid. I remember our conversation about loving another man perfectly. And only a year later you drag a boy you were supposed to hate into your home and try everything you can to cure him of a possibly fatal mental condition. Gratefulness for saving you and perhaps all of us is not enough to warrant such actions.”

I groan and am hard pressed to stick my tongue out at her, only narrowly managing to not do it. After all it’s not like she’s wrong. Suddenly I feel one of her arms wrap around my shoulders.

“It must be hard for you,” she says sadly.

“Huh? For me? What do you mean?” I look at her, slightly confused.

“Of course. Seeing the man you love in such a bad state day by day.”

I pull a sad face, “Be that as it may, I focus on the fact that I am helping him. And that he’s getting better.”

“That’s the right mind-set,” she smiles, “You will see he will be healed one day and then you can keep him at your side forever. To live out the life you both wanted.”

I chuckle, “For that he first has to want to be with me. I would never force him.”

“If he doesn’t love you after everything you are doing for him now, he’s a stupid idiot,” she laughs and I join in after a moment.

~ * ~

I spend a happy weekend at Andromeda’s. Teddy mostly keeps my mind off more morose topics. Thanks to that I am in a much lighter mood when I return to Grimmauld Place Sunday evening. To not startle Draco any further than necessary I enter through the front door instead of using the floo. Hermione meets me at the top of the first stairs.

“Hey Harry. Have a nice weekend?”

“Yeah, thanks for forcing me there,” I grin.

“I’m glad,” she pulls me into a hug.

“How’s he been?” I can’t help but ask as soon as she pulls away again.

“Draco?” she smiles carefully, “Good actually. From what I can tell at least. You are better in tune with him than I am. But there was no problem while you were gone.”

“Good,” I smile back, “Can I see him? Or is he already sleeping?”

“No, he’s still in the living room. But go ahead. I already gave him dinner,” she waves past her in the direction of said room.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” I say sincerely as I pass her.

“No problem honestly. I understand your desire to help him and he needs it. Besides Mrs Weasley nearly forced me to come here no matter what Ron protested after I told her about it. She nearly came herself but since we found out that Draco has an aversion against the colour red we decided it’s better that she stays away,” she nods to me.

I smile back at her. We proceed to the living room in silence after that. Eventually I come to stand in front of the well-known door. It’s slightly ajar which allows me to watch Draco through the open space. I can’t help but smile at the picture he presents.

He is sitting in his usual chair, still slumped but his posture portrays a bit more strength than when he came here. Like I said, small victories. He also looks cleaned up now. The nearly white hair is pulled into a neat ponytail at the back of his neck. A green band secures it in place. His face is comparatively relaxed. Nothing can change his pale skin except getting outside, something we can’t do at the moment. He is still thin and looks somehow hollowed out but again he is a good deal better than before. Dragon is curled up on his lap, purring contentedly. The stuffed toy is on a table not far, but the blonde’s focus is on the cat, whose tail is twitching lazily. Draco’s fingers are running through the white animal’s fur, face soft. He is even making a small humming noise in the back of his throat. It’s not speaking yet, but it’s something new either way.

I exchange a smile with Hermione. Yes, he is indeed getting better.


	16. Visiting the stables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> still no internet during the week, but because today is a holiday, I am back home, so I have access again.
> 
> I thank all of you for your comments, especially bafflinghaze and Kkmonkey, and apologize for not replying to any of them but my life has been a chaos recently and I'm not used to replying to comments.
> 
> Any comment and kuods is appreciated though.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, but Andrea is an OC.  
Also, I have never actually seen horse therapy and I don't know much more about it than reading some articles in riding magazines, so I am essentially still making this up. 
> 
> But I think sometimes animals make for better therapists than other humans (my personal opinion as someone who has a tendency to shy away from other people, much less any kind of doctor).

We give Draco three weeks to restabilize. In that time we also make the first tries to bring him outside. Only the back garden at the beginning. It’s warded and shielded from any human who can’t enter the house either. The first time we tried it (well, only me since he is tenser when Hermione is there too), he nearly jumped backwards when I tried to coax him over the doorstep. He seemed frightened at first but after about half an hour of coaxing and the assistance of his stuffed dragon he finally stepped out into the open. After the initial hesitance he took pretty well to the outside. I think it’s a remnant of his days in the prison. He loves the fresh air and garden. (I cleaned it up for him so there won’t be anything dangerous.)

After he got used to it he started taking Dragon out there to play with the cat. He still has difficulties moving on his own, but crawling works good enough by now. What still troubles him is keeping his balance. From what I read horse therapy can help with that kind of problems.

Bringing him out front on the street with other persons worked a good deal less. I tried after ten days of peaceful time spent in the garden. To say it didn’t go well would be an understatement. He froze as soon as I opened the door. The sound from the relatively calm street outside was enough to scare him. I tried to coax him over the threshold but I had to give up before I pushed him too far and caused another breakdown. Three more tries didn’t get me much further. I managed to get him out on the steps but that’s about as far as he would go. The last time one of the people walking by looked at him or more likely just looked in his direction accidently because I put a barrier around us so no one can see us unless they are especially searching. As soon as he saw the woman’s gaze turn on him he ripped himself free from me and took a staggering jump backwards only to land on his back in the entryway of the house. I decided to leave that subject be for now.

On the other hand he seems to endure apparition surprisingly well. He twitched when we tried it the first time and seemed massively confused and at first a bit scared when we appeared in a totally different location. But all in all it’s good that we can apparate with him. Otherwise we would have had to think about sedating him on our way to therapy and neither of us wants to do that.

All that is to make it possible for him to go to horse therapy after all. He needs to leave the house for that and will encounter at least a few other persons. It’s still a gamble how he will take the new surroundings but we noticed that nearly any kind of animal (snakes don’t count of course) can calm him so I hope the horses will be enough to keep him grounded.

So right now I am standing in the middle of a horse stable in a small town about an hour outside of London. From what I found on the internet (it’s a muggle business after all) this is a very good therapy stable despite being relatively small. Though if this wasn’t for Draco I would never be here. All my memories with horses usually include either thestrals or Duddley pushing me off or into one. Yeah, well I have to get past that. Nonetheless I sigh when a curious snout carefully nudges me from the side. Throwing a wary look at the light furred horse I rub it’s nose and hope the owner comes soon.

Luckily I don’t have to wait much longer until a woman in her early thirties clad in simple riding clothes rounds the corner. Dark blond hair is braided loosely past her shoulders and the smile seems a permanent fixture in her tan face. Bright blue eyes are assessing me with a curious gaze. I can see the ends of a long silver scar above her right wrist where the sleeve doesn’t quite reach anymore. Nonetheless she smiles as she approaches me, shaking my hand in a greeting.

“Hello, my name is Andrea Jillings. Can I help you?”

“Yes, uhm,” I clear my throat and push the curious horse away, “My name is Harry Potter. I called last week.”

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Of course,” she nods, “I’m sorry. There is always so much during the day it must have gotten lost,” I just wave it off and she smiles brighter, petting the light horse which had been nudging me before, “So what can I do for you?”

“Uhm, I read about horse therapy on the internet. It sounded like a good idea to me and after asking around a bit they recommended your stable,” I stumble over my words a bit.

She nods, her smile turning a bit more serious, “Alright. For whom? I doubt it’s yourself since you don’t seem very comfortable around horses, no offense.”

I smile back carefully, “None taken. And no, it’s not for me. It’s a… friend of mine. But he,” I clear my throat uncomfortably, “He‘s not in any state to come here on his own.”

“I understand,” her brow furrows, “Nonetheless I have to ask what his diagnosis is.”

“No problem,” I say, pulling a sheet of paper from the bag I am carrying and hand it to her.

We ran another diagnostic spell over Draco because we knew that a clear diagnosis would be required. Hermione helped me put it in a way that muggles would accept with official doctor’s signature and so on. I see Andrea carefully studying the sheet, her forehead creasing. Eventually she looks up at me, a pained expression hiding in the back of her eyes.

“That’s a pretty severe condition,” she says carefully.

“I know,” I sigh, “But he’s a fighter and he is already showing signs of recuperation. I am sure he can heal if we help him.”

She nods with a soft smile, “I wasn’t denying that. I am always glad when the patient has someone who believes in them like you do. All I was saying is that it will be a difficult recovery. In all honesty I have only rarely seen a patient with such a bad condition,” when I want to open my mouth she holds up her hand, “Again, I am not turning him away. But are you sure horse therapy is the right way? Your friend’s problems seem to mostly be psychological while horse therapy tends to be used more for bodily issues.”

“I know,” I nod, crossing my arms, “But he reacts badly to strangers which puts human therapists out of the question. On the other hand he seems to connect well with animals. I bought a cat and it took less than a day for him to accept the animal while he still stiffens when someone other than me comes near him. We also found out that he owned horses when he was younger and he loved riding, so that might add to it,” I sigh, rubbing my arms, “Even if we have to find something else for his mental troubles he is still having balance problems and his muscles don’t work properly sometimes.”

She clamps a hand on my shoulder and nods, “It’s fine. We will help him however we can,” she motions in the direction of a door at the end of the stable, “How about we sign the papers and draw up a first appointment?”

“That sounds good,” I smile thankfully.

“Alright,” she grins while leading me towards the back, “Is there anything else I need to know? Like something he is especially afraid of?”

I ponder for a moment, “It would be best if there are as few people as possible. Like I said, he is still extremely wary of any strangers.”

“So better late in the evening when the children are already gone.”

“That would be good, yes. Maybe also a horse with a lighter colour. He’s seen god knows enough darkness. A patient animal but one who sometimes initiates contact by themselves?” I just ramble of what comes to my mind.

“You seem to have a very clear idea,” she chuckles.

“I am trying to describe a personality similar to our cat since he seems to get along with him so well,” I snort.

“I will see who we can take,“ she smiles as we reach the small bureau.

Motioning me to sit down on the chair in front of the (slightly chaotic) desk, she goes to the other side. After a bit of rummaging she draws out a few sheets and snaps a pen from the side of her computer.

“First things first. Your name is Harry Potter, correct?”

“Yes,” I nod, revelling in the fact that here in the muggle world no one recognizes my name.

“And your friend’s name?”

“Draco M…” I bite my lip, “Draco Black.”

She raises an eyebrow but writes the name down anyway, “Since I doubt he is in a state to be making his own decisions, what about his guardians? Have you talked to them?”

I squirm in my seat, “Unfortunately not. His guardians are not in the picture,” I clear my throat, “His father is dead and his mother is in the mental ward. She is not properly aware of the world around her.”

“His mother has mental problems too? Could it be an inheritable condition?” she frowns.

I shake my head, “No, she… had an accident. And Draco on the other hand went through a lot of trauma. From childhood on.”

“Domestic abuse?” she questions, then cringes, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay,” I purse my lips, “But yes, among other things.”

“So no official guardians. That means you are the one taking care of him I guess?”

“Yes, he’s living with me,” she bites the back of her pencil, nodding.

After filling out the forms with my address, contacts and some more details about Draco, she smiles at me.

“That’s it for now. The only thing that remains; when do you want to schedule the first session?”

I shrug, “Do you have open space next week maybe?”

“Let me see,” she types on her computer, then nods, “Yeah, Thursday at seven o’clock in the evening. Does that fit for you?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t really have any plans. Seven sounds good to me.”

“Great,” she smiles, standing up and stretching her hand out towards me, “Then see you next week.”

“Yes, thank you,” I say, shaking her hand, “Until next week.”

We say our goodbyes and I leave the room. When I step out onto the street outside of the stable, I have a careful smile on my face. I have a good feeling about this. With a bit of luck this will be as big a help for Draco as we hoped. Keeping that thought in the forefront of my mind I apparate back to Grimmauld Place where Hermione is watching over Draco.


	17. Peaceful therapy session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> long chapter today.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments.
> 
> Disclaimer: The HP characters aren't mine and I have no medical knowledge.

And then the day is here. We will finally take Draco out into the real world for the first time. Lucky for all of us, the day starts out well. Breakfast goes by calmly and I let Draco spend the rest of the day as he wants to (that mostly means sitting out in the garden with Dragon). The only thing I insist on is that he eats each meal and takes a nap after noon, so he will still have enough energy for the riding session in the evening.

Hermione arrives at six, while Draco is back inside, dozing in the living room chair with a sleeping cat on his lap. We give him about twenty minutes more before I urge him up and into the front hallway. Getting shoes and a jacket on him is not as easy as usual. He already knows that putting these on means going out the front and he doesn’t like that, so he gives meagre resistance. We disapparate from the steps to keep his interaction with the evening bustle of the streets to a minimum.

When we reappear on a forest path close to the stable it takes him a second to register the definitive unknown surroundings. He stiffens immediately and he looks ready to bolt, eyes wide. Hermione throws me a worried look over the blonde’s shoulder. I know she is questioning whether it’s not too early but I have trust that Draco will be just fine. So I carefully nudge the other man forward, supporting him, and press his stuffed dragon, which I took from home as a caution, in his hand. He seems to calm down a bit, but his distress is still clear.

We process in tiny steps towards the stable. But to my surprise as soon as he hears the sounds of horses, Draco seems to stretch forward, instead of blocking and pulling backwards. This time it’s me who stares at Hermione over the blonde’s shoulder, but with an encouraging smile.

Of course he is startled back into defensive mode once we encounter the first human. A girl, who I guess is an assistant, pushes the door open just as we are about to enter it. Draco jumps and nearly manages to tear out of my hold. Luckily I am able to catch him before he can either run or fall and the woman slaps a hand over her mouth.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. Just be more careful next time,” Hermione replies while I work on keeping Draco steady, murmuring to him about horses.

“I am really sorry. I’m new,” the stranger explains, “I still have to learn to contain myself all the time to not scare any of the patients.”

“No, really,” my friend presses, “Just let us through please. The horses should calm him down again.”

“Yes, of course,” the woman nods and hurriedly holds the door open for us.

Carefully I coax Draco through. The woman takes a respectful distance but he is shying away nonetheless. Hermione follows us and thanks the stranger tensely before focusing back on us. But she knows better than to touch Draco right now. In such an anxious state he could react negatively to any touch. Luckily, the horses once again work like a charm and some tension leaves his frame.

Since I don’t see Andrea yet and there is a mother with her apparently paralysed child and a trainer standing further down the stable next to a brown horse, I move us slightly over to the side where curious horses are peering at us. Draco actually stretches his freely moving right arm towards one of the animals’ heads. A grey horse with a white nose, eagerly nudges the shaking hand. At first he twitches and I ready myself to catch him again, but nothing happens. A second nudge and Draco somehow relaxes. He actually makes a small happy sound when the horse snorts and pushes against the pale hand. Hermione smiles at me as I hold the blonde around the waist to stabilise him while still giving him enough freedom to move as he wishes. He seems to be nearly unaware of us and everything else around us as long as he is carefully stroking the horse’s nose.

“Try to find Andrea,” I say to Hermione, “Her office is at the back of the stable, then left.”

But I wouldn’t have needed to say that because just as my friend starts to make her way towards that direction, the blond woman is already approaching us with a strong stride. I am glad that Draco seems out of it and doesn’t notice her.

“Hello, Harry,” she says as she arrives in front of us, “And you are?” she turns to Hermione, gauging the other boy out of the corner of her eyes.

“Hermione Granger,” she answers, “I am a friend of Harry’s.”

“So that’s Draco then?” Andrea asks next, turning to the light blonde.

“Yes,” I nod, carefully trying to gain the other’s attention, “Hey, Draco. Could you look at me for a moment? You can go back to the horse in a minute.”

It takes me still more coaxing and he nearly focuses away again when the horse whinnies in complaint. Eventually though he turns to me, silver eyes landing on Andrea and he immediately stiffens. But she only smiles patiently.

“Hello Draco,” she says lowly, bowing her head, trying to make herself look even less like a threat, “My name is Andrea. I won’t harm you. I just want to help you.”

She also makes no move to hold out a hand or something which seems to calm the blonde, despite the fact that he keeps looking at the horses from the corners of his eyes every second. I have long vanished his stuffed toy or it would have fallen into the dirt when he reached for the horse. He still only uses one hand after all.

“Do you like the horses?” Andrea asks.

Instinctively I feel Draco push against me, towards the animals once again. I smile sadly at the woman.

“He doesn’t speak a word yet unfortunately,” I explain and she just nods.

“It’s fine. From the diagnosis you gave me I expected something far worse anyway,” she cringes, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be inappropriate.”

“No problem. It’s actually going better than we expected too,” I agree, letting the other boy go back to petting the horse, “Like I said, he gets along pretty well with animals. The horses calm him down a lot. As soon as we step out of here, he will jump at every new sound again.”

“Alright,” she nods, “How about we go to riding hall. We have a smaller one where no one else will bother us. A horse is already waiting there.”

“Good,” I smile.

Of course it’s left to me to coax Draco away from the horse he is currently petting without him causing a scene. He is certainly not happy but hangs his head eventually and follows me. I sigh, recognising this as a mechanism he kept from his prison days when he had to bow to each of the guards’ whims. I stroke his back to make sure he doesn’t confuse this with the prison. We already had episodes where he mistook some action and flew into a flashback that brought him right back into forcefully learned behaviour. Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.

The way to the hall takes us past the other patient and as soon as he comes into proximity to new humans, Draco makes himself ready to flee. Being aware of the sensitivity of the situation, the mother just nods at us then turns back to her daughter who is stroking the brown horse’s neck. The other trainer also ignores us so we pass calmly.

The hall is about the size of a quarter of a soccer field. One side is covered in mirrors, but they have blinds over them to not unsettle the patients. A horse is waiting patiently in the middle of the hall, head held only half high, but lifting when it hears the door opening. The mare’s back is about as high as my shoulders and her coat is goldenish, reminding me of the colour of Draco’s hair from our first school years. Her mane and tail are white just like her legs. It’s a beautiful horse with intelligent dark eyes. Draco’s gaze immediately fixes on the horse. He seems uncertain whether he is allowed forward to it so I give him the needed freedom. He actually leaves my hold, takes two steps on his own before he catches himself against the mare’s side. Andrea smiles.

“He really takes well to the horses,” she nods, “That’s Shenan. She’s a twelve year old palomino mare. She should fit your description well.”

“Thank you,” I say earnestly, but she just waves it off.

“Helping the patients is my goal. Seeing him and the others smile is the best reward.”

“True,” I agree as Hermione retreats back to behind the barrier, “So what now?”

“For now, we give him a bit of time to get acquainted with Shenan. Since he is not shying away from the horse, there is no need for any interruption in this first step,” she watches Draco wistfully, “I have had so many patients with whom we had to take several sessions just to get them to touch a horse. He really is a blessing when it comes to that.”

“But for that his recovery will take much longer…” I sigh.

“Maybe,” she muses, “Maybe not. No one can say how well someone can heal from mental illnesses or trauma.”

We stay silent after that and just watch Draco interact with the horse. He is leaning against her, using her as his support, not yet strong enough to stand on his own that long. His right hand is running all over the shining fur and through the white mane. His left arm is still immobile, so we put it in a sling so it won’t get in his way. Shenan in turn has her head turned to him, carefully nudging and prodding at this new human. Her nose carefully explores the thin figure and to my surprise Draco shies little to not at all away from the animal’s touch.

After close to fifteen minutes of peace Andrea next to me straightens, “Alright. I think we can try riding now. You coming?”

I nod and follow her as we slowly approach the jumpy blonde. Instinctively he buries himself into the horse’s side when he sees us come closer. Shenan lifts her head, eyes fixing us as if she is assessing whether we are a danger to the human she just took under her wing. Andrea grins and stroke’s the palomino’s snout which causes my friend to back further into his animal companion. He jumps slightly at me touching his shoulder but calms fast as well.

“Okay,” the woman says to me, “I will lead Shenan and you help Draco up. Could you get him away from her back for a moment?”

I nod and push the blonde further towards the head to give the woman access to the horse’s side. Draco follows me willingly as long as he is allowed to keep contact with the animal. Andrea steps away again to return with a girth and a large blue cloth. She puts the cloth on Shenan’s back, making sure to put the fur down so it won’t hurt the horse. She fastens the belt around the palomino’s body, two grips now up on the animal’s back. She nods at me and we exchange positions again, Draco letting himself be led.

“Does he have enough coordination to get up on the horse by himself if you make a ladder for him?”

I bite my lip, “I don’t think so. Maybe if he had some stairs?”

Another nod then she motions towards Hermione, “Could you bring the steps standing next to the entrance, please?”

“Sure,” the girl smiles tensely, grabs the mentioned item and approaches us cautiously with it. Once again caught up in the horse, Draco barely notices her. It allows her to position the steps close to his feet. I murmur my thanks and put it in the correct place. Next I nudge the blonde again.

“Come on, Draco. You’ve gotta work with me here.”

I actually get his attention and grey eyes land on me. Luckily the steps are just broad enough for me to walk up them next to him. He follows once again and eventually, we stand with the horse’s back at the height of our thighs. I nudge his right leg, at a loss on how to get him to make the last move from the steps onto Shenan’s back. I breathe a sigh of relief when apparently muscle memory from his youth days kicks in and he moves his leg over the palomino’s back. His strength gives out halfway through and his knee lands on the middle of the cloth. But Shenan doesn’t even twitch only gives a soft snort. I support Draco from the side, so he manages to slide completely onto the horse’s back.

The moment is strange, but not in a bad sense. It’s like a huge breath leaves Draco and his whole posture relaxes but gains in inner strength at the same time. His right hand reaches out and strokes the white mane, a hum starting in the back of his throat. His usually shaky hand becomes stronger, gripping the leather secured around the horse. The left arm is still unresponsive and his legs more or less just hanging down, but it’s a step forward nonetheless. Andrea gives me a bright smile from besides Shenan’s head, holding the lead she attached to the horse’s bridle.

“That’s great,” she says, “You’re doing great, Draco.”

As expected it doesn’t garner any reaction from him. Once again we wait for a few minutes to let him get accustomed to the new situation. In the end it’s actually Draco who becomes impatient. I assume it’s once more muscle memory as he nudges the horse’s sides with his legs. Shenan snorts softly but reacts to the weak directions nonetheless and takes slow first steps forward. Andrea smiles brighter.

“He is really showing positive activeness. Is he usually like this too?” she asks me.

“No, he normally only does as we urge him to. He loves our cat but all in all he wavers mostly between extremely jumpy and half apathetic. I have never seen him as relaxed and active as he is right now,” I can’t avert my eyes from the other man’s form.

“Come on, walk with us,” Andrea motions to me as she starts to lead Shenan around the hall.

I nod and hurry after her. Unfortunately my fast approach seems to have garnered even Draco’s attention and he stiffens when I come too close, legs closing around the horse and hand white-knuckling around the grip. I bow my head and shush him, slowing my walk. Once I have come up next to Andrea, she throws a look at the blonde.

“What is with his left arm? I see you put it in a sling, but you didn’t name any injuries that would impede movement to this level.”

I give a sad smile, “No, his arm’s physically fine. I think it’s a reminder of very bad memories so he ignores it and doesn’t use it because of that.”

“A reminder how? If I may ask,” once again blue eyes land on him.

“Let’s just say that he did some things that weren’t entirely right when he was younger. But he was forced to do it and that included being forced to have a tattoo made on his left arm. We assume that’s the reason he refuses to move it. He doesn’t even like people touching it.”

“You mean like a gang?” she frowns.

I cringe, not exactly. But she’s a muggle so I answer, “Yeah, something like that.”

The rest of the hour we had planned for Draco’s first session passes by peacefully. Andrea and I are making small talk and I tell her more about Draco, while she leads Shenan in circles through the hall. Despite how little balance he displays when standing on his own two legs, Draco sits on the horse securely the whole time. In addition to that, his face is more relaxed than I have ever seen him since I took him from Azkaban. Andrea is very happy with his behaviour and it only assures me even further that horse therapy is the best medicine for the blonde. Magical methods be damned. Shenan calmly makes her rounds, one ear always fixed on the thin figure on her back. Her owner explains to me that it seems the horse has taken a big liking to her new patient as well.

As it turns out, getting Draco off Shenan at the end of the session is probably the most difficult thing we faced all day. He doesn’t want to let go of the grip, not to mention actually step away from the horse. As much as I hate to do this to him, I have to use a bit of magical persuasion to finally get him back on the ground. To placate him, Andrea lets him help with pulling the gear off Shenan and groom the horse once she has the animal back in the stable.

Watching him standing there, left side leaning against the light fur for support and the right hand running a brush along the horse’s side, I smile. It looks so peaceful and for one reason or another he reminds me of a child at that moment. Unconsciously the wish comes to me that I would like to see memories of his when he was small. Whether he could find peace at least back then. From what I saw and read in Narcissa’s diaries, horses seem to be his sanctuary, now and then.

It’s past nine o’clock in the evening when we decide to call it a day. Draco is nearly dozing against Shenan, his hand only moving very lazily. The two women smile as I pry my half asleep charge away from the horse. Hermione has made another appointment while I was watching him. He leans heavily on me when I take him in my arms, blond head lolling against my shoulder. He seems tired out by the day but happy and that’s more than I could’ve asked for.

Luckily Draco is out enough so that the track home goes by without complications. He is completely asleep when we arrive back at Grimmauld Place. I put him in bed, changing his clothes and cleaning him up magically. Hermione has made tea by the time I return to the living room. She smiles at me, when I let myself fall down onto the sofa opposite her.

“Well, that was a very effective evening. I know I brought the idea up but I wasn’t expecting it to work that well,” she shakes her head. At a strange look from me she continues, “Don’t get me wrong I am glad about it. It was nice seeing him like that.”

“I agree. He reminded me of a child today.”

“Hm, I don’t think I have ever seen him at peace like that during our school days,” she muses.

“Maybe in his first years,” I shrug, “And sometimes during Quidditch.”

“Of course you would know better, after all you spent half of your school years watching him,” she smirks.

“Did not!” I growl, hitting her arm.

She just laughs.


	18. Magic, sweet moments and idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I can't believe it We finally have internet! A miracle has hapened!!  
^^' Sorry, but it's really been a big annoyance for the past weeks. And I'm still pissed at my roommate for inisisting on the worse connection, but what can you do...
> 
> Anyway, new chapter up. Thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

The next morning I am up early once again. I don’t think I have ever really slept in since we brought Draco here. Today though I am still preparing coffee when I hear a crash from upstairs. I startle immediately. Coffee forgotten I hurry up the stairs. I’m not really surprised when it lands me in front of Draco’s room in the end. Inside it’s mostly silent. Well, at least no screaming so hopefully no panic attack at the moment. On the other hand though when I open the door a bit I hear some soft sounds. My brow furrows, not sure what to make of this and open the door entirely.

I breathe a sigh in relief when I see that Draco is laying on his side in the bed, his right hand out and moving his stuffed dragon around. While at it he is doing the soft humming I heard earlier. I am not completely sure what to think of this picture. On one hand it is a very peaceful picture and is proof that he is making progress if slowly, but on the other hand seeing him reduced to the level of a small child, even though he’s over twenty, is sad. It makes me wanna curse the ministry bastards even more.

Unwilling to break the calm atmosphere I set to watch him. My eye falls on a toppled stack of books next to the door. I guess that is what caused the crash earlier. But that was stacked securely, I remember that clearly. And Draco was way too far away from it, not to mention that he wouldn’t be able to move over there. So what threw it over?

A grunt from Draco breaks me out of my musings. Apparently the dragon has slipped his hand. The toy has fallen off the bed. The blond is making unhappy sounds. Well, it’s a step upward from complete silence, just still far from actual words. I am about to walk over to help him when he gives a louder huff and it looks like something under the stuffed animal explodes. It flies about two inches in the air, but unfortunately Draco doesn’t have the coordination to catch it yet. Once again, the dragon lands on the ground. The blonde makes another sound in the back of his throat and another invisible explosion throws the stuffed toy around, this time in entirely the wrong direction though.

Draco gives half a yell and a third explosion causes another stack of books to fly in the air. I have to lift my hands to not get hit by any of them. Another look assures me that there was never anything that could have caused an explosion. To my surprise and elation I realise that they are caused by Draco’s magic. Another part of himself Draco couldn’t access before. Another step forward. But before he can take the room apart the room with his newfound ability, even if he’s still doing it unconsciously, I step over to him and pick up the dragon. When I set it down in his hand, he gives me a small smile and a hum in the back of his throat. I return the smile and kneel down in front of him, a hand running through nearly white strands of hair.

“Good morning, Draco. Did you sleep well?”

He doesn’t react, unsurprisingly, his attention completely on the stuffed toy once again. I sigh, but the smile stays on my face as I coax him out of bed and to the living room for breakfast. 

On our way out of the room, he suddenly reaches out to a book. My balance is nearly upset by his action so he manages to knock the thing over. It tumbles open and reveals the pictures of horses inside. He gives a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeak. As urgent as he is capable of, he pulls downwards. He manages to touch one of the animals, humming excitedly. His fingers tap against it. I chuckle.

“Yes, I know. We saw the horses yesterday. You liked them a lot, didn’t you?” More tapping and humming, “We will go there again, promise. But not today,” I assure him as I pull him back up. He gives an unwilling grunt and one more book topples down without it being touched, “Come on, time to eat. You can have the book later.”

Eventually he relents and lets me lead him. I just shake my head fondly.

~ * ~

As it turns out though, the reawakening of Draco’s magic is more problem than expected. Yes, it’s a step forward, but it also means that I have an emotionally unstable person with uncontrollable magic in the house. I feel like half the time I have to duck from something or the other exploding. Whenever something doesn’t go his way, things start to blow up. When he’s happy, one thing or the other in his vicinity starts to float. Most of these times said things come crashing down when his elatedness fades which ends in more broken stuff. I guess this is similar to a child’s magic outbursts except that Draco’s magic is fully formed and a good deal stronger than any child’s before Hogwarts. He regularly causes Dragon to hide under whatever furniture is closest which then ends with Draco more unhappy and because of that more broken things and scared cats. It’s an endless circle.

Hermione laughed when I told her about it, not that I can really see the funny side of this. Still Draco is getting better and that’s a good thing. His next appointment for riding therapy is scheduled for next week, so I have to endure his constant pointing at horse pictures and exploding vases every time I tell him that he will have to wait.

About two days before this appointment I am interrupted by another rude ministry employee. Luckily this one has enough common sense to wait at the door until I open it. The moment I see the ministry standard clothing, I feel the urge to close the door in his face. Knowing that it will only anger the ministry further, I give an audible sigh and lean against the doorframe with crossed arms.

“What do you want?” my voice is cold.

“I was sent to take the statement of Draco Malfoy,” he replies in a haughty voice, “I was told he is in your care.”

“Excuse me,” I basically gape at him, “What?”

“I am here to take – “ he starts to repeat, annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Yes, you already said that,” my brow furrows in anger, “But why would you want a statement from him? The Ministry didn’t give a damn about what he had to say last time. Not to mention that we’ve already been over that once before, he can’t really answer questions right now.”

“As you maybe know the Malfoy case has been opened again. There will be a new trial for Draco. The Ministry requires a preliminary statement from him,” he replies, completely ignoring the second part of what I said.

“Of course,” I snort, “And he will have to come to the trial to speak as both witness and accused I guess.”

“Naturally, that is a requirement if he wants to clear so much as some of his guilt,” he explains calmly, my anger rising further once again. When he starts again, my patience rips another time, “And now – “

“Are you kidding me?” I growl, “How badly does the Ministry inform their employees? Or did you just not care enough to check it.”

“I don’t understand – “ he tries but I cut him off again.

“You want to hear a statement from Draco?” I am forcing my magic to calm down, “Well, tough luck. He is not even capable of speaking,” I growl, “And guess who’s responsible for that. Yes, your Ministry who stuck an already unstable person into Azkaban without proper trial.”

“It was not our fault. The Ministry was just following protocol,” he attempts to argue.

“Is it protocol to not even listen to the accused’s side of the story? To throw an 18 year old into the lowest level of Azkaban?” I growl, “Seriously? Do I have to explain this to every single one of you bastards?”

“Mr. Potter,” he bristles, “Even if you are the Saviour, you can’t just – “

“I can and I will. It seems the Ministry learned nothing from the last war. This kind of attitude is exactly what allowed Voldemort to rise as easily as he did,” I cross my arms, glaring deeply, “I will only say this one last time. Draco is in no condition to make a statement, not to mention standing trial. He is neither capable of talking nor walking by himself. He needs constant care and I will under no circumstances subject him to the Ministry. If you actually want something useful, try sending someone compassionate or at least understanding. That Sergio Danito who was here last time for example,” I am about to turn away, then glare a last time, “And if anyone asks for Draco to answer anything again before a medic of my choosing clears him, I am going to sue the Ministry for more than they already owe him. Tell that to Kingsley for me.”

With that I slam the door, sinking down against it when I hear the sound of someone disapparating comes from the other side. It takes me some minutes to get my breathing under control. But a crash from upstairs startles me once again. I sigh, heaving myself up on my feet. When I stumble up to Draco’s room though, it’s silent again.

As I open the door, suddenly a smile comes to my face. The scene that presents itself to me is actually nicely peaceful. Draco is sitting on the floor, the sun shining through the big windows highlighting his hair and skin, giving it a more golden tone than he usually has. There is a calm expression on his face, a few stray strands of hair falling in over his cheeks. He is humming lowly to himself, his one moving hand alternatively stroking Dragon who is laying in his lap and pointing at the pictures of horses in the book in front of him. The cat is purring and occasionally licking the still unresponsive left hand positioned next to him.

The soft smile stays as I carefully approach the peaceful pair. I see Draco tense for a moment but when he looks up and only spots me, he relaxes. He even gives me a small smile when I settle next to him on the floor. He makes a sound in his throat and taps the book still laying on the floor.

“You want me to read it to you?” I ask, we have done that a number of times before, but usually with more distance between us.

He nods, tapping the paper again. I give him a smile and stroke his hair. Then I take up the book. In all honesty it’s nothing special. A muggle book about horses. What types races there are, how to tend to them, famous horses in history and so on. I think I have read it for him about three times already but it’s his favourite after all. So I lay it on my lap while Dragon wriggles on the blonde’s to get more comfortable. Draco strokes the white fur and I start to read out loud.

To my surprise a few minutes later I feel a weight falling on my shoulder. At first I think it’s just Dragon who moved from the other’s shoulder. But when I turn I spot blonde hair instead of white fur. With pleasant surprise I realise that it is Draco’s head laying on my shoulder. Silver eyes focus on me, questioning and shy, nearly scared. Immediately I turn back to the book to show him that it’s totally okay. He relaxes again. The smile on my face becomes brighter.

Moments like these are exactly why I put up with all this trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Yes, the Ministry does care so little about Draco's case that they don't inform their employees that Harry has already been questioned and Draco can't speak.
> 
> I love their moment at the end though :)
> 
> Next chapter on Sunday. Hope to see you then.  
Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	19. Nice evening out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> like I promised, the next chapter today.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.
> 
> Comments and kudos as always appreciated.

Another five days later it is time for Draco’s second therapy session. He has been whining about the horses anyway. Hermione arrives early and I am still preparing Draco when she finds us in his room. He is sitting on the bed, mostly dressed but he keeps interrupting me because he’s reaching for a book or Dragon and sometimes throwing things around with his new magic. All in all it’s a tad bit chaotic. The girl obviously can’t keep herself from giggling when she sees us.

“Now that’s certainly a pleasant image to walk into,” she grins.

I huff from my position in front of the blond, trying to force his arms into a jacket, “It’s not funny, ‘Mione. It’s like trying to tame a toddler, except he’s taller than me and throwing fully fledged magic around.”

“Better a mute toddler than comatose,” she sighs, but kneels next to me to hold Draco’s right arm still, “It’s quite nice to watch how he’s progressing, even though it’s still far from what we want to achieve in the end,” she chuckles, “And until then you have to take care of a six feet tall toddler. No problem, right? I mean you took care of Teddy didn’t you?”

“Yes, before I took Draco in. Andromeda wanted him to have parents, not just a grandmother. Since I am his godfather I am the closest he has left,” I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face, “She wants me to take him again… And don’t get me wrong, I understand why she wants that, but right now there is just no way.”

“She asked you?”

“Yes, last time I visited her. But I told her, I can’t,” I answer.

“No, I guess not. We need neither Draco nor Teddy scaring each other,” she snorts, “especially if one of them could take the house apart in a fit of magical panic.”

“That’s one point. Also, Teddy needs a lot of attention, he’s not even three after all. But Draco already requires so much attention. Not to mention that I have to study as well at some point. I am bordering on being forced to repeat some lectures anyway. I can’t take care of Teddy as well when I can barely manage Draco and my life at the same time.”

She snorts, “You know I could take care of Draco now and then if you want some time to actually live your life.”

At that I shake my head with a soft smile, “No, it’s fine,” I run fingers through Draco’s hair, “He’s been a big part of my life for as long as I have known of the wizarding world. I want to bring that part to rights and maybe then I can think of focusing on someone else.”

“Not even go out once? You know, go to a bar or a club. Go get a drink and maybe find someone to flirt with?” she eyes me curiously

I laugh softly, stopping Draco’s hand as it shoots out as if to hit me, “No, really, I’m fine. Besides I… Hm…” I break off embarrassed.

“Besides you have a huge crush on Draco anyway and you wouldn’t feel right going off to find someone when the one you really love is left alone at your home and suffering.”

I blush heavily, but can’t really find it in me to deny it so I only glare at her, “Where would you get that impression?”

She only snorts, now keeping Draco from moving past us, “Do I really need to list that? How about your obsession with Draco since the day you two met for the first time? Or the fact that you were practically stalking him through sixth year?”

She would have continued if the subject of her speech had not interrupted her by throwing a magically moved book at her shoulder. Lucky for me Draco gives an annoyed sound and throws the left side of his body forward, averting the girl’s attention to him.

“Yes, yes,” I catch him, “We are getting moving.”

He gives something resembling a huff at that and I chuckle, turning to my friend, “Can you get the sling for his arm? We need to secure it again.”

She nods, waving her wand and the black material lands right in her hand, “Here,” she holds it out to me.

But just as I am about to take his left arm to put it in the sling, it twitches. Twitches away. But the rest of his body didn’t really move, so it could only have been caused by a muscle directly in his arm. I smile softly. ‘Small progress once again,’ I think while I rub said arm in encouragement. That earns me a wide-eyed look from the blonde, but he doesn’t make any move away either.

Eventually I manage to secure the unresponsive limb in the sling, only to have something hit me in the back as well. I huff and glare at the other boy playfully.

“We should also bind his magic for the time being,” I hear Hermione’s voice from behind me, “I mean, usually that’s not advised because it can hinder a patient’s development, but we are going to a muggle place. The humans and especially the horses have no experience with magic and we really don’t need him scaring any of them since he can’t control it.”

I sigh, “Agreed. Do you know any spell that could do that?”

“Of course,” she grins, “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

One incantation later no books are flying through the room anymore. Draco makes an impatient noise and actually puts effort into getting to his feet. He manages to get upright, but loses his balance soon after he took the first small step forward. I stand just in time to catch him.

“Yeah, we’re still working on that,” I huff in amusement which earns me an annoyed noise from the man now in my arms.

Hermione laughs lowly and comes up next to us. I grin back at her over the other man’s shoulder. Slowly we make our way downstairs to the front door. Draco gives off an impatient air but he accepts my lead. I am happy to see how much he trusts me by now.

A short time later we have apparated on the grounds of the therapy stable. Draco is pulling forwards as soon as the smell of the horses hits his nose. He huffs when I regulate him down to a slower pace. Hermione grins at me. I smile back as I stop him in front of the door to let the girl open it. To my surprise though as soon as the wood swings open and he has made sure that no one is too close or in his line of sight, he actually tries to push off of me. I want to catch him, but he sways to the left side and would have crushed me against the frame of the stable door if I had not let him go.

“Well, he’s certainly getting more active when we’re getting closer to horses,” I huff as I catch myself against the wall of the stable.

Hermione giggles, “That’s true. But you should go catch your toddler before he hurts himself or causes some kind of ruckus.”

I grumble but hurry through the opening after the other man. Luckily nothing seems to have happened. He has his working hand and shoulder against the wall of the stalls. Curious horse heads peek from a few of the windows. Most pull back though when he sways past, as if understanding that if they touch him they might upset his course and cause him harm. Eventually he stops, panting slightly as if he just finished a run around the Quidditch field. I smile sadly at how weak his muscles have become. Still leaning against the wood he reaches his working hand out to stroke the nose of a brown horse carefully sniffing his hair.

I smile but don’t really dare come closer, lest I interrupt his peace. For a few minutes he busies himself with the two horses nudging at him from left and right. Then, just as I take a step closer a soft whinny from the other side of the stable seems to draw his attention. At first he stiffens whether from me approaching or the unexpected sound, but then he looks in the direction of the noise and spots Shenan, the horse he rode during his first therapy session. His face brightens slightly and he takes another step.

I am just about to catch him when he turns towards the other side of the stable. Unfortunately I am still too far away and I feel Hermione’s hand on my arm before I can come close enough. Instead I only watch as I see Draco use his moving hand to push himself off this side of the stalls. I swallow. There are approximately six steps to the other side. That’s over five steps without anything to hold onto. Draco has never managed more than two without support. My eyes lock with Hermione’s but she shakes her head.

“He has to make his steps on his own. If you support him on every step he takes, he will never make progress,” she says softly.

“And if he falls?” I can’t help but ask.

“Then you help him get up again and he will give it another try. You said so yourself, he’s a fighter. Now it’s your time to believe in him,” she smiles as she motions to the other boy.

And indeed Draco has already managed over half of the distance. His steps are insecure and he has problems balancing himself, but he is doing it, in smaller steps than the usual human though. Four steps, five, six. With the seventh he reaches out his right hand to the wood and another move forward lands him against the other side of the hallway, where Shenan welcomes him by carefully nosing his cheek. He gives the light furred horse a smile despite the fact that his free hand is now clinging to the bars next to the horse’s window. He buries his face in the soft fur instead.

I smile as I carefully approach him a few minutes after he has regained control over his right arm and is stroking Shenan’s head. His eyes land in my direction but he doesn’t move from his position next to the animal. He doesn’t even twitch when I settle on her other side. My staring at him is interrupted by an amused chuckle next to me though.

“I see you two have reacquainted yourself,” Andrea has come up to us, “Hello Harry, Hermione and Draco.”

The girl and I give our greetings back, but the blonde only buries himself in the horse’s neck in distrust. The woman smiles at him anyway, carefully approaching further.

“Do you want to help me prepare her?” she asks softly.

He stares at her with hard silver eyes, his hand clenching in the white mane. He doesn’t respond immediately instead holds still as if he’s assessing her. Eventually he nods but shies away nonetheless when she comes close so she can open Shenan’s door.

“Alright,” she picks up a plastic container at the side of the door filled with brushes and the like. She takes one out and holds it out towards Draco, “Here. The first step is brushing her fur.”

To all our amusement he gives her a look as close to his condescending old one as possible. I hear Hermione giggle behind me while I watch him fondly.

“How much time did he spend around horses did you say?” Andrea asks, smirking.

“I’m not sure, I didn’t know him yet at the time,” I shake my head in amusement, “From what I gathered his family had horses when he was young. He loved them, they apparently were his sanctuary from what we guessed.”

“It would seem that way,” the woman smiles, “Even now he seems to know exactly what he’s doing.”

And it’s true. Even in his current state, every stroke of the brush is well placed. In slow but precise movements he soon has covered the whole side of the horse. Using her rear as support he walks around the horse to do the same on the other side. We wait until he has cleaned the whole animal, being careful on her head. When he slowly pads back to the door, shooting wary looks at Andrea, I smile as he hands me the brush. The blonde woman grabs something else out of the container. It looks like some plastic handle with a bent end of some other fabric sticking out of it. At first Draco gives her an expectant look but when she shakes her head he narrows his eyes.

“Sorry, but you can’t do that,” she hands him back the brush instead, “Shenan is well trained but even she can’t hold up her hooves on her own for that long. So to clean them you would need two hands, not just one.”

He huffs, but nonetheless goes back to brushing the horse’s fur. I smile at the picture. Still he shies and moves away to another spot of the horse every time Andrea comes close to him. She finishes soon and lets him continue touching the palomino while she puts the cloth and belt from last time back on Shenan. Draco gives a disgruntled noise as I pull him away from the horse after a motion from Andrea. Hermione follows us as we make our way to the riding hall. The therapist puts the rope on again as well as she leads Shenan behind us. Draco reaches out to one or two other horse noses along the way.

Once we have arrived at the riding hall, we follow basically the same procedure as the last time. Even from the steps Draco still needs one moment of pause with his knee on the horse’s back, but he is faster to move again this time. He straightens as soon as he sits on the palomino, more strength flowing into his thin figure.

Andrea and I make small talk while she leads Shenan around the hall. Hermione has left earlier this time. Draco is peaceful as always as long as he’s around horses, even urging Shenan to go faster at some point. It seems like she can’t decide whether to follow his commands or not. But neither Andrea nor I have been paying much attention and eventually the mare gives in and starts a slow trot. The therapist is surprised when the horse suddenly bypasses us, but immediately tries to reign it in again. Draco gives an annoyed sounds when Shenan slows down and the woman grins.

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, young man, we are certainly not going any faster on your second session already,” another annoyed grunt tries to cut her off, but she speaks over him, “No arguing. I might trust the fact that you can hold yourself steady, but it’s a rule and we don’t have to risk that much yet.”

He grumbles but peacefully settles for the slow pace after that. Getting him off takes a lot of coaxing once again but we manage and after another long round of brushing the light fur I can get him to leave with me.

We arrive home at about the same time as last week and he falls straight into bed, falling asleep with a small smile on his face and his stuffed dragon in his arms. Meanwhile I sit down in the living room to do some studying for my healer career for once.


	20. Studying and moments at home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> Sorry for being a day late. But I was busy with university and driving yesterday. My internet cut out right before I could post.  
So I'm posting now because I just got out of surgery for getting a tooth implant and need to distract myself from the pain.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

It’s been five weeks since Draco started horse therapy and he is getting better each time. You can really see how well he takes to this kind of therapy, muggle or not. Andrea also says that she has seldom seen a patient react this good. He is also making progress. For one he has learned to walk a good distance with just one hand on the horse’s neck and no other support. He’s still not speaking, only making noises. But Hermione explains that his memories probably reach up until infant age, which would make sense that he can’t speak then. And why he is still mostly calm. Both Hermione and the books say that once more of his memories come back and he starts to remember all the crap he went through when he got older, he will become a scared wreck once again. Looking forward to happy times, are we? So I will enjoy his childish behaviour for now.

Still I am encouraged and happy every time I see his progress. Another one of those moments happens this Sunday. We were riding yesterday and he fell asleep smiling, the dragon only sitting next to his head instead of pressed against his chest. Since I have an exam in a week, I have been studying in every free moment I have. So I sat down as soon as the blond was asleep, opening books and making notes until I fell asleep with one of the heavy tomes on my chest, sprawled across the couch.

In the morning I am woken by something prodding me and soft curious noises. My brain is slow to register and so it takes me some time until I manage to get my eyes open. Because I am still half-asleep the only thing that really registers in my brain is pale skin and white blond hair. Mind still in protective mode, it snaps back to the time of the war, when this hair colour could only mean one thing. That danger is here. Instinctively my hand goes to my wand, it flying into my fingers.

But that earns me a shocked squeak loud enough to startle me completely awake. Next to follow is a crash and the sound of someone scrambling away. My eyes fly completely open, but everything is still foggy. Damnit, my glasses must have fallen off at some point. Hurriedly I summon them and put them on. My brain immediately deduces that no, there is no danger. Just a scared Draco in the corner. I curse softly.

The blond is pressed to the wall next to the door, body tense and arm held out in a defensive way in front of him. The grey eyes are wide in panic and the light hair chaotic. I hastily move from the couch, the fast move and the heavy book tumbling to the floor, causing Draco to scare anew. Immediately I freeze.

“Hey Draco,” I says softly, “What are you doing here?”

Of course I don’t get an answer, so I just run a hand through my hair. I slow my movements but continue to approach him. He stiffens but at least he is peeking through his fingers again. I lay my wand on the table and lift my hands in a nonthreatening move.

“Sorry, really. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I speak in a soft voice, kneeling on the floor in front of Draco, “You just startled me. I’m sorry. Draco, hey?”

Careful grey eyes peek at me through pale fingers. I smile, “That’s right. No danger here, I promise,” I stretch out my left hand, palm up. I stay like that, murmuring calming words and holding out my hand. Eventually he slowly takes his hand from in front of his face. He lowers it towards my palm, but twitching away shortly before contact. I patiently keep on offering my palm and at the third try he finally lays his hand on mine. I smile brightly at his still worried expression.

“That’s good. Everything okay,” I rub his hand, my eyes locking with his, “Now why don’t you tell me what you are doing here?”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes still wary. Then he detaches his hand from mine and rubs over his stomach. I understand after a moment.

“You’re hungry?” he nods and I throw a look at the clock. My eyes widen, “No wonder, it’s already past ten in the morning. Damn, I overslept quite a bit. Sorry,” I rub the back of my neck, “Give me a moment, alright?”

He makes an indiscernible noise and pulls his hand away. With fascination I watch as he reaches for the doorframe. My smile gets broader when I see him use it as leverage to heave himself on his feet just with his own strength and coordination. It takes some time but eventually he stands. I am smiling brightly at him while he throws me something that could be called a self-satisfied smirk. I can’t help but laugh when for the first time he really reminds me of his old self. He returns the smile as he pushes off the door and walks, though still pretty insecure and wobbly, over to one of the couches. He falls onto it, grabbing for one of his books laying next to it. I watch him with a soft smile.

I can’t help but wish that one day I can experience such a scene without all that craziness. That even when he’s sane and good again, he will still let me close and maybe even let me see his vulnerable side. Him making a grumbling sound, rips me out of my dreamy state and I remember that it is high time for both of us to get some breakfast. Nonetheless I can’t stop smiling all the way through making it after seeing him walk on his own.

~ * ~

The time of the healer exam, Friday morning, finds me tired and on too much caffeine. But Draco had a relapse yesterday when a dog threw a fit close to the house while the other man was in the backyard. I wasn’t there and only got called out there by him screaming. The dog wasn’t anywhere close to him, but it still sounded loudly into our garden. I am not surprised he jumped and got scared. Nonetheless it caused a bit of a relapse and I spent the afternoon and most of the night soothing him and trying to coax him back to bed. He only fell asleep past three this night. Since I lost a whole half day of studying I had to make it up in what little time was left until I had to be at the school. Hermione only came back from a trip this morning, so I couldn’t call on her. She only arrived early today, looking as tired as me. During the night I have drank so many coffees I lost count long ago. I suppose I look half like a zombie as I stumble into the room.

“Hey Potter, had a long night yesterday?” one of the other students yells at me and grins.

I only wave it off until another asks, “Had fun?”

To that I snort, “Yeah, sure. I wish. I was studying.”

It earns me a round of laughter but I ignore it and drink another gulp from my newest coffee. Instead I stumble over to my chair and bury myself anew into a summary of what I have to know for the exam.

Soon the professor calls for attention and the room quietens, everyone moving to their places. Papers are passed out and the scratching of quills starts as soon as the teacher calls to begin. I am tired and from time to time the letters swim in front of my eyes. I manage to answer nearly all questions anyway, even if I feel ready to fall asleep any moment. Eventually the professor calls for everyone to put their quills down before I can get started on the last question. I sigh, but it went better than I expected after two weeks of little and one night of no sleep at all. So I will leave it be. I drain the last of my coffee while everyone else packs up and starts to leave. I yawn widely as I pad past the professors.

“Mr Potter,” I hear Professor Javis, our teacher for psychological illnesses, call out, “Are you okay?”

I nod in his direction, stopping anyway, “Yes, thank you for the concern. I am just tired. Didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“Last minute studying or the friend who is staying with you?” he asks when he steps in front of me.

I frown for a moment then I remember that I told Professor Javis about Draco after one lecture to get some information, “Both,” I chuckle wryly.

“How is he?” concern is marring his features.

I sigh, “Let’s just say, he’s better. He’s still far from good, but we’re getting there. Horse therapy is helping him a lot.”

“Horse therapy?” it earns me a curious look.

“Yeah, right. It’s a muggle thing. At every wizard place I am afraid that they might recognise and shun him. That would just make it worse.”

“So he kept you up last night. What happened if I may ask?”

My face pulls into a grimace, “A dog scared him. He spent half of the evening panicking. And once I got him calm enough it was late anyway, so I studied.”

“Have you taken him to a mind-healer yet? Someone to examine him.”

“No, not yet. He has lost nothing of his fear of strangers. I am not sure it wouldn’t have an adverse effect. But I have thought about getting him properly examined soon. Just not at St. Mungos.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, “I wish you luck with him,” he smirks, “and with the exam.”

“Thank you, professor,” I chuckle wryly.

He nods and turns away from me. I do the same and somehow manage to get back to Grimmauld Place without falling asleep. Hermione welcomes me in the front hallway.

“Well, you look like crap,” she smiles at me wryly.

I snort, nothing new. She on the other hand does look better than this morning. Maybe she actually got a nap in. That gets my hopes up for Draco’s state.

“Thanks, nice to see you too,” I answer her in the same tone, “How is he?”

“Okay,” she shrugs, “Pretty well, considering the panic attack he had yesterday. He woke up screaming shortly after you left but I managed to calm him down. With Dragon’s help that is.”

“Is he sleeping now?” I ask while pulling off my jacket and leaving my bag by the door, yawning widely.

“Not the last time I saw him,” she takes my bag instead and leads me up the stairs, “He’s in the living room. Well, if he didn’t wander out, since he can do that now, he doesn’t exactly like to do what you tell him to, not to mention stay where you put him.”

“I would rather have that, than him sitting around apathetic,” I push the door to the living room open.

There Draco is indeed, still looking paler than two days ago, his muscles slightly tense. Nonetheless he looks up from the book on his lap when the door creaks open. He gives me a tight smile as he spots me. I smile back and let myself fall onto the sofa next to him. My left hand strokes his hair and he calms down, letting his head fall against me.

“Yeah, you gave us a right scare last afternoon,” I snort, “And a sleepless night. If I don’t pass my exam because of you, I am going to make you repay me somehow once you have your head back in order.”

He only snorts. I yawn, sliding further into the sofa. I can’t keep my eyes open for long and doze off with his head still on my shoulder.

When I wake back up, six hours later, we have moved and I have stretched out along the couch. To my surprise I discover Draco laying half on top of me, sleeping peacefully nonetheless. His right hand is curled into my shirt and it seems as if he is using me as a replacement for his stuffed dragon. Not that that changes anything about the soft, warm feeling spreading through my chest at feeling the other man so close while still calm and peaceful. So I just stroke his head and let him sleep on, my arms wrapped around him.


	21. Progress, but with darkness looming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> Since I was not in a good place when I first posted this chapter on fanfiction.net, I won't repeat the author note I wrote there.
> 
> Instead, I'm going to put up a warning for mentions of abuse, self-harm and suicide in this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

The next big step happens once again with the horses. Three more weeks after my exam (which came back with a surprisingly good grade, even though I think Professor Javis might have had something to do with my test getting graded a bit more towards the positive) we are on another horse therapy session. Just me and Draco. Hermione hasn’t been accompanying us for a long time anymore. Especially not since Draco has started to consider the stable a safe place too (as long as there are not too many other people there).

Since a few weeks he is preparing and putting away Shenan on his own as far as he can do with one hand. He’s still not really allowed to go faster on the horse, but Andrea is not leading the horse as close as she did at the beginning and they did a few steps of trot the last times. He is also capable of walking by himself basically all the time, just prefers to still have something to hold onto.

He is doing his walk around the hall with Shenan right now. I am watching him and following at a safe distance. Only to see him lean close to the horse’s head, like he is trying to whisper in her ear. Activating a discrete listening charm, I notice that he is actually doing exactly that. It’s difficult to catch and even with the spell I can’t understand proper sentences, but it’s true. He is talking! Actual words. More than some sounds or unintelligible mumblings.

“He think… Do… and… suprising… Shenan…” he mumbles softly.

I smile, deactivate the charm and continue to follow him. Let him have his moments with Shenan and I will wait patiently for the first words he will actually say to me. As long as he is making his progress. Andrea calls us into the middle a few minutes later and the session continues as usual, with the exception of Draco’s mumbled words to the mare later in the stable.

~ * ~

It’s two days later when I really hear him speak for the first time. After a day spent mostly in the backyard, reading and playing with Dragon, Draco is tired. As usual I bring him to bed like you would do with a small child (I don’t read him a bedtime story though, he usually does that by himself). After pulling the covers over him, he starts to make sounds in the back of his throat and I realise that his stuffed dragon is still laying on the other side of the room. I stroke his hair and summon the thing, earning me a contented sigh from him.

“All right now, Draco?” I ask and he nods, “Okay. Goodnight then.”

Just as I am about to turn away, I hear another small sound.

“Night,” the blonde mumbles into his dragon.

It’s so low that I nearly miss it, but thankfully I hear and whirl around immediately.

“Draco? What did you just say?”

He stares at me with nearly frightened eyes but repeats cautiously, “Night?”

A bright smile breaks out over my face and I fall to my knees next to his head, fingers immediately in his soft hair, “That’s great, Draco!” I laugh, at least that gets him to carefully lift his eyes over the green fur a bit, “I am so proud of you. Yes, goodnight.”

He nods, “Goodnight,” he repeats with a nervous smile, before his eyes fall closed. 

I stay there for a bit longer, just stroking his hair and face with a slightly goofy smile on my face. Eventually I leave his room to go back down. But I am too giddy to go to sleep right now, so I decide to use the free time and study until my eyes fall closed.

In the morning it’s once again Draco who wakes me up with poking my shoulder. I open my eyes blearily but at least this time I am aware enough not to mistake him for a threat and scare him too in the process.

“Hm?” I blink up at him and he mirrors my action, staring at me curiously.

“Food…?” he says carefully, sounding somewhere between complaining and unsure whether he is allowed to ask that.

“Oh right,” I yawn, moving to get up, “Give me a moment. Breakfast is ready soon.”

He nods and turns away from me, collecting Dragon, who has jumped on the couch next to my head, with his working arm. I let my eyes follow him fondly

~ * ~

The afternoon of the next day I meet up with Hermione for tea and biscuits. It’s a sunny day so we are sitting outside, watching Draco play with the cat in the backyard. He is waving one of the animal’s toys above it’s head, always moving it out of reach when white paws make a grab for it. A careful smile is on the blonde’s face and he is making humming noises in the back of his throat.

But while I feel like I am floating on a cloud since I heard him speak for the first time, I can’t help but notice how my friend is watching him with worried eyes.

“Alright, out with it,” I eventually sigh, turning to her.

She startles as if I caught her doing something she shouldn’t, “I don’t know what you mean.”

I roll my eyes, “Don’t play stupid. I know you think you are protecting me by trying not to burst my happy bubble or whatever, but I am old enough and we have been through enough by now, don’t you think? There is no reason to keep anything secret.”

“I know,” she sighs, nervously twirling her spoon in her cup, “It’s just… You looked so happy when you told me that Draco spoke,” a snort, “You are even looking at him like you are somewhere lost on cloud nine right now.”

“And you want to protect me by not telling me that it can’t stay that way?” I make a guess, voice steady even though my stomach clenches at the thought of losing the joy now residing in Draco’s eyes.

“Yes,” she answers, “No,” an immediate correction, “I mean, in a way. What I want to say is that we both know that he isn’t going to stay like that,” she waves a hand in his direction, “I don’t deny it’s cute and maybe finally the happy youth like he deserved but he’s over twenty. We said we wanted him capable of living a normal life. He can’t do that if he’s still mentally stuck at being a toddler.”

“I know,” I repeat her earlier answer, giddiness now gone from my tone, “Believe me I know. It’s actually sad seeing him like that once you sit back to think a bit about it. I meant it when I said I wanted a normal life for him. So what is it that you want to tell me?”

She squirms a bit but relents in the end, “I did a few scans on him and his mental state while you were preparing the tea. Right now he is still at toddler stage, somewhere between mostly instinctual behaviour and more elaborate ones, but his mind is slowly starting to wake up more and more.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” my brow furrows.

“Well, yes it is,” she bites her lower lip, “In one way sure. His motion, mental capabilities and even character traits are coming back,” now she darts a nervous look at the man in question, “But the problem is that his memories are returning as well,” I see her swallow and I feel the dread closing around my chest, “And that means years of abuse, prison, Voldemort, torture and Merlin only knows what he saw in all the time he was forced to be a Death Eater.”

My lips purse and I lower my head, “Yeah that. I guess I pushed that aside,” running a hand through my hair, my gaze fixes on the peaceful figure, “Isn’t there a way to take these memories?”

“Take his memories?”

“Yes, delete them or at least pull them out of his brain like you do if you want to use them in a pensive. Or are they not accessible if his mind is still shut down?”

“No, they are. Theoretically we could do that,” she tilts her head, “But that means removing a huge amount of memories. Years of them. Do you want to be the one who has to explain to him why there are massive gaps in his memories? That nearly all of his last five years are missing? I don’t,” she clears her throat, “Not to mention that with his character he would demand to be told anyway or force you to give him the memories back. Either way you would achieve nothing but a brief respite until his traumatic past comes back to him.”

“So there is no way around?” I cringe.

“No, I’m afraid there isn’t,” she sighs, “All you can do is help him through it as good as you can and hope he recovers well enough to go back into society.”

“Alright,” I straighten, “What should I do?”

“Give him a safe space for the start. His room for example. Somewhere even you don’t enter unless it’s an emergency. Be there for him. With some luck he will remember that you are a safe person and trust you even if his memories are mostly overwhelming him otherwise. Make sure to trigger his memories as little as possible.”

“What will trigger his memories? Will they come back in the order of his life like his abilities do?”

“No, the memories could be triggered by anything and everything. An accidental scratch from Dragon, something crashing to the ground, magic or even as mundane objects as a walking cane.”

I swallow as the possible implication of what she just said sinks in, “A walking cane?...Please don’t tell me his father beat him with that cane of his?”

Her pinched face at that tells me enough, I burrow my face in my hands, “I can’t keep every single object away from him.”

“No, of course you can’t. That’s why I said, be there for him,” she shakes her head, then her face twists again, “But you should keep sharp objects, potions and stuff like that away from him?”

I can’t help but frown, “Why?”

She squirms in her seat, clearly uncomfortable and saddened, “Uhm… Well, you have seen his left arm right? How disfigured it is over the Dark Mark?” I nod confused, “That’s self-inflicted, I’m pretty sure of it,” another swallow from her, which tightens the dread in my stomach, “I… I don’t want to sound insensitive or anything but…” even Hermione is apparently stumbling over her words, “When his memories come back, he’s going to be in a very bad place and I’m afraid he might do something harsh.”

“You mean he could…”

I can’t finish the sentence though because at this moment I feel a weight dropping on my thigh. Startled I nearly jump, but soon I realise that it’s not more than Draco who has put his head there, Dragon crawling over the bright locks and padding over onto my leg. The cat meows as if trying to break me out of my gloomy mood. I smile sadly and use one hand to caress the boy’s head and the other to scratch the cat behind his ears.

“I won’t let that happen,” I whisper, eyes locked with beautiful grey ones. Not looking at the girl, I clear my throat and change topic, “How is the trial going?”

She sighs deeply, sounding more exasperated than pained this time, “At a snail’s pace as was going to be expected. It was half a miracle and a huge amount of work to convince them to even start a new trial to begin with. The moment they hear his name they lock up, no matter what he really did in the past.”

“Racism at its finest once again. Fascinating how much they behave just like the people who they judge so strongly,” I shake my head, “Any progress?”

“Well, they are trying to dig up new evidence. Kingsley is pushing for progress but whoever is on the job isn’t as open as him and is barely doing anything,” she snorts, “Also, they want to wait until Draco can give a statement.”

Now it’s my time to snort, “He might never be able to stand on trial again, even only as a witness. And even if he can do it, it will take months, probably years until that. They can’t expect it to be accepted to wait that long.”

“Unfortunately it will probably be accepted. The wizarding community doesn’t care much if an ex-Death Eater gets justice or not if it doesn’t have anything to do with punishing them.”

“Even after two wars the wizarding world is still not changing then,” I smile sadly as I stroke Draco’s soft hair, “But for now I guess I’m happy with changing your world for the better.”

He smiles back at me, grey eyes who so oft sparked animosity at me are looking at me with complete trust. A warm feeling fills my chest. I push the thoughts of what is ahead of us aside and instead lean down and burrow my nose in the bright strands.

“I promise I will take care of you as good as I can,” I mumble and can feel Draco’s body vibrate with a soft laugh.

As his right hand goes up to settle against my neck, I close my eyes and let myself enjoy his closeness. If I had looked up, I would have seen Hermione stare at us with a knowing look.


	22. A floo call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I know I'm one week late, but I've either been actually busy or falling into holes which meant I was in no mood to do anything, updating included. Since I've been repeatedly told not to apologize for having a life, I won't even though I want to.
> 
> First, thank you for all the comments. The encouragement means a lot to me. :)
> 
> Something else that I need to say, but I will keep it brief here. Art is subjective, which is the beautiful thing about it. Literature is also an art, so people will have different views and opinions on certain characters. Every opinion is valid even if they differ from the original author's opinion and ideas. That's the beauty about fanwork in my opinion. Critizing someone on the way they view certain characters makes little sense as those are personal opinions, not facts. At least that's the way I see it.
> 
> Sorry for the rant, but I've read it multiple times in comments (both here as well as on fanfiction.net), that something is not canon or that some character would not behave that way in the original medium. Well yes, that's why it's called fanfiction.
> 
> Warnings: well, as usual, hints at abuse.
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine.

Luckily it seems that nothing is going to trigger Draco anytime soon, since he spends the following days in peace, with Dragon and his books. I have time to catch up on my studies because he is becoming more and more self-sufficient nowadays. Unfortunately he still mostly acts like a child. Even his speech sounds like a toddler for the bigger part. But all in all we are so far from the apathetic boy and I enjoy the peaceful times before it takes a turn for the worse again.

Today’s study session though is interrupted by the floo flaring, alerting me to an incoming call. I throw a cautious look towards the door to make sure Draco isn’t coming in. It’s been a long time since he saw the green flames last, but when he did it ended with him hiding in the corner for the better part of an hour. He might be better adjusted now, but that would probably stretching it. When I see that he’s nowhere close I step in front of the fire, the floo telling me that it’s just Andromeda calling.

As soon as I keel down in front of it, the flames flare higher and form the woman’s face. I smile, “Andromeda. Long time no see.”

“That’s true. Teddy misses you,” she throws me a scolding look.

“Sorry,” I say once again, rubbing the back of my neck, “But I’ve been busy. Hermione couldn’t take care of Draco and he doesn’t trust anyone else but me or her. Not to mention that I still have to prepare for the exams.”

“Yes, yes, always busy,” she sighs, “How is Draco?”

“Better,” I say carefully, “Granted he acts like a six foot toddler, but apart from that…”

Unfortunately before I can say anything more the door behind me creaks open. As it catches Andromeda’s attention, the flames brighten once again. I don’t even have time to look around before a scared screech sounds from the door. Immediately I am on my feet to see Draco cowering against to the doorframe, his hand gripping the cat in his arms so hard, it causes the animal to screech in protest at the nails digging into his flesh. Hearing Dragon’s sound, Draco lessens his grip and pulls the small body in front of his face, palm flattening so that he doesn’t hurt the cat any further.

I breathe a sigh in relief seeing his interaction with Dragon. At least he can work past his fear now. Careful I approach him. Hearing my steps, he stares at me with wide, slightly nervous eyes. I hold my hands up to soothe him.

“Don’t worry,” I say carefully, “Everything is okay. What happened?”

He cautiously peers over the small white cat in his hand and his eyes flit past me. He motions towards the fire still cackling green. He shakes his head nervously.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but when I try to reach for him, he steps back and burrows his nose deeper into a slightly exasperated looking cat.

“Fire,” he mumbles, “Fire bad,” his eyes flit from side to side, “Fire bad. Hurts.”

“Fire hurts?” I repeat, frowning, but in the end I decide to put that aside for now. Another look flitting back to the fire causes an idea to spring to my mind. I bite my lips, undecided for a moment, but it seems like a good next step. So I reach out another hand out to Draco, without trying to touch him this time, “This fire isn’t bad, don’t worry,” he doesn’t look convinced so I change the subject, “Would it be alright if we had some visitors?”

“Visitors?” he repeats and tilts his head.

“Your aunt and great-cousin,” I explain.

But to my surprise he blanches and Dragon screeches again at the tight hold, “Not aunt,” he whimpers, “Please not aunt. I didn’t do anything w-wrong.”

It takes me a moment of confusion until I realise that he probably thinks I am referring to Bellatrix. A shudder runs down my back. The last thing I need right now is her.

“No, no,” I hurriedly try to reassure him, “Not her. Merlin just not her.”

Seeing the understanding in my eyes, he nods, “Aunt bad, very bad. Only when something wrong.”

Trying to push the implications of his words away, I shake my head too, “It’s not her. It’s a friend of mine. Do you know the name Andromeda?”

“Andromeda?” he tilts his head in confusion.

“I guess not then,” I sigh, “She would be coming with her grandson Teddy? Would that be okay with you?”

He stares at me distrustful, “Have to be there?”

“No, you don’t have to be there,” I reassure him, “If you don’t want to or it’s too much for you, you can stay in your room or the garden with Dragon. Does that sound good?”

His nod is slow and careful but in the end he agrees. Nonetheless as soon as that is cleared, he clutches Dragon to his chest and is gone from the room with a last wary look to the fire. I run a hand through my hair before returning to the fire.

“Everything okay?” Andromeda asks as soon as I am kneeling in front of the fireplace again.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “Draco just came in, saw the green flames and got scared. It seems he made some bad experiences with fire.”

“Bad experiences with fire?”

I shrug, “Whether before Azkaban or during that I don’t want to think about,” then I suddenly wince, “Though it could also be the Fiendfyre that nearly killed him in the Room of Requirement. Who knows?”

“I am getting the impression that boy has accumulated an amount of bad memories way too big for his age,” she says sadly.

“You probably don’t know half of it, not that he’s the only one,” I shake my head a last time, “Anyway. We were talking about visits right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, since I haven’t been over as much as I should, how about you and Teddy come to Grimmauld Place? Don’t worry, it’s been cleaned and child-proofed.”

“Are you sure? Draco’s still there after all?”

“I just talked about it. He’s okay with it as long as he’s not forced to interact with you.”

“Okay,” she smiles, “Just give me some minutes to get Teddy ready.”

“I get tea and cookies on the table.”

“Good idea, Harry. See you in a few minutes,” I nod and the conversation disconnects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> I will try to put the next chapter up as soon as possible, perhaps today or tomorrow.
> 
> Hope you liked it, comments and kudos are always appreciated and see you next time.


	23. Two children and a cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> next chapter, despite me having a pretty busy weekend because it's christmas baking time.
> 
> When I reread this chapter for posting it again here on AO3 I noticed some issues because I was a bit frazzled at the time I originally wrote it. I tried to correct them, but didn't quite manage.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

Teddy squeals with excitement when he sees me. Andromeda hugs me before we settle down for tea. The little boy ends up with his face full of chocolate from the cookies but it doesn’t do anything to diminish his happiness. Nonetheless, in typical toddler manner, he loses interest in mine and Andromeda’s conversation pretty fast and pads over to the empty space close to the door to play with some of his toys. Even though he is basically out of my line of sight, I don’t worry because I know there are so many wards and diagnostic spells installed here in and on the living room because of Draco that anything wrong would be registered anyway. So I don’t notice our new visitor until Teddy squeals.

“Kitty,” he screeches happily.

My head shoots up as I discover a curious Dragon poking his nose at the toddler. Andromeda smiles, despite the cautious look on her face. Teddy on the other hand seems wholly unperturbed, reaching chubby hands towards the small white cat. Dragon looks suspicious but doesn’t try to scratch. Fascinated by the picture of the small child and the cat neither of us notices his near silent footsteps until it’s too late.

“No, Drag – “ a soft voice says, then breaks off with a choked sound.

My head whips up only to discover a wide eyed Draco in the doorframe. His eyes flit between Dragon, his anchor, in the hands of an unknown toddler and us, sitting near the fireplace. Andromeda’s eyes are as wide as her nephew’s. My body stiffens, remembering Draco’s reaction to his aunt’s name and the sisters’ resemblance, even if it has lessened with Andromeda’s grey hairs she lets show openly nowadays. I would love to storm over to the man to hug him and assure him everything is safe. But from experience I know that fast movement is the last thing he needs right now. Even one wrong twitch can send him panicking in such a moment. So I stay still and make sure Andromeda does the same.

Unfortunately Teddy doesn’t share this sentiment. He stares curiously at the blond man, a now squirming Dragon clutched securely in his arms. His eyes are focused on the pale face and when wide grey ones turn on him, the little boy’s eyes change to match the other’s.

Teddy tilts his head at the blonde’s uneasy face, “Kitty?” he asks, holding the squirming cat up towards Draco.

The older only stares at him panicked while Andromeda and I watch with baited breath. His bony hand is clenching and unclenching against the wooden doorframe. Not getting a reaction out of Draco, Teddy pouts and tugs with his free hand on the fabric of Draco’s pants.

“Kitty,” he says energetically as grey orbs turn to him again. He lifts Dragon higher who gives a protesting sound but is ignored by the two boys. “You. Kitty take,” the toddler insists, “Look sad. Kitty make better.”

Deep wariness in his eyes Draco detaches his moving hand from the doorframe and carefully reaches for Dragon, like expecting even a toddler to pull his cat away from him again any second. When his fingertips touch soft fur, he twitches away at first. But when the cat gives a loud meow, he reaches out again and carefully grips the small creature. Lifting the cat out of Teddy’s hands, he hurriedly pulls the animal to his face and nuzzles the soft fur. Dragon releases a soft purr and Draco relaxes for a tiny bit. That earns them a satisfied grin from the toddler on the floor. Andromeda has a hand over her mouth, her eyes suspiciously wet. 

Dragon uses the moment the blond pulls him away a bit to scramble over the man’s arm up to his shoulder to settle there. He curls around Draco’s neck, looking a bit like a furry neck-warmer. It’s by far not the first time I have seen this but I find it cute every time. Teddy though is already bored again and sorting Draco under ‘adult’ (not that his mind is much further than the toddler’s but Teddy can’t know that) which means he is allowed to go into the backyard as long as he takes him. So he tugs at the blonde’s leg again. Hand clutching in soft white fur, grey eyes turn back to the child who distracts him from his panicked staring at Andromeda.

“Who are you?”

Getting no reaction again, he huffs and sticks his hand out, “I’m Teddy. You?”

Draco only blinks. Yes, any kind of (human, he seems to be working quite well with any kind of animal) social interaction is still his biggest problem.

“Your name!” The toddler repeats, voice now tending towards annoyance.

“Dra-Draco,” the blonde says carefully.

A grin spreads over Teddy’s face again, “Hi Draco.”

Another blink.

Ignoring his lack of reaction, the small boy grips Draco’s unresponsive left hand, not paying any attention to the mess of scars and faded Dark Mark on the pale skin visible where his sleeve has slipped back. He grins up at the blonde, “Draco play.”

I tense in my seat, waiting for Draco’s reaction. To my surprise though he only stares in curiosity at the small human. Apparently not showing any adverse reaction is enough for the toddler as he starts to drag the much taller man down the hallway, happily babbling about what they are going to play. Draco is simply staring down at him, allowing him to lead on.

When they disappear from my view I turn back to Andromeda, only to see the first tear slip down her cheek.

“Are you okay?” I ask worriedly.

She swallows with difficulty, “That was Draco, up and moving.”

I nod sadly, “Yeah. When did you see him awake last?”

“It was a long time ago,” she rubs her wet eyes, “Well, unless you count from far away at Hogwarts or the trials. Or in the Prophet,” conjuring up a tissue, she cleans her face, “I think he wasn’t much older than Teddy is now. A toddler still. Narzissa snuck out of the Manor to visit Ted and I with her small child,” she clears her throat again, “He was such a sweet child back then. Always smiling. Seeing him today, like that, it is…”

“Painful?” I supply as she breaks off.

“Yes,” a sad smile returns to her face, “But you never knew him as who he was in the beginning, did you?”

“No, I only met him in Hogwarts for the first time,” I shrug, caught up in what I remember reading in Narzissa’s diary, “And by then he already went through enough to be bitter and a carbon copy of his father.”

At her sharp intake of breath, I remember with a shock that I never mentioned what exactly we read in her sister’s diary to her. But before I can argue she just waves her hand.

“I can imagine. Enormous pressure to always be the best. Training from a very early age before the brain is really up for the job. If he makes a mistake or does something he shouldn’t, it ends with punishment. Emotional and judging from Lucius character, also physical abuse day to day,” she explains with an exhausted voice.

I swallow, “That about sums it up, yes. But how…? I don’t think I explained it that precisely.”

“You didn’t, but you forget I grew up in a pureblood household too. The pressuring and punishments were a daily occurrence, more for the boys than the girls, but still. Add to that Lucius’ sadistic tendencies…” she shakes her head, “I don’t want to imagine.”

“Neither do I,” I agree.

“Add to that the trauma of the war and what he went through in Azkaban,” her hand rubs across her face, “Still very sad. And he didn’t deserve any of it.”

“No one deserves that.”

“No,” she throws another look towards the door, “But at least he looked better than the visit I did from when he first arrived and the memories of the following weeks that you showed me.”

“Yeah,” I smile at the now empty door.

I startle when a soft hand lands on my shoulder, “I am very glad that he has a friend like you,” she chuckles, “Even if you were never friends before.”

I just smile and lean back into my armchair, taking a sip from my tea. After a few moments of silence her brow furrows though.

“But shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on Draco and Teddy. You said he still has the mind of a child. Are you sure it’s safe to leave them running around the house on their own?”

I wave it off, “There are so many diagnostic and protective spells around Draco I would notice anything that went wrong. Not to mention that Draco is the one more likely to freak out of the two. Teddy is safe with him, he would never voluntarily hurt him.”

“And if he gets scared of something? He could lash out”

“He would huddle in the corner and freeze or at worst scream,” I sigh, “His reaction is flight not fight. The worst he can do is scare Teddy by screaming his ears off because he accidently hit him with something.”

“Alright,” she smiles tiredly, “We can collect our two toddlers this evening then.”

~ * ~

What follows is a relaxing afternoon of conversation. We try to avoid trickier subjects like Draco, the war or politics. I keep my magic half-way focused on the wards around Draco, more for Andromeda’s sake than mine. But there is nothing worrying. The spells register nothing more than Draco’s usual mood swings, which are harmless. I notice that he was very tense at the beginning, totally untrusting of little Teddy and the current happenings, but he relaxed over time as the toddler proved to be no danger at all. I can’t say whether he enjoyed playing with the little boy but he certainly seems as peaceful as he gets these days.

In the end neither Andromeda nor I notice how much time has passed until I hold up a hand to stop the flow of her words when I think to hear soft feet padding down the hallway towards us. And indeed a few moments later after listening to the steps getting slower the closer he gets, a white blond head pokes carefully around the doorframe. As soon as grey eyes land on Andromeda he tenses again. Nonetheless he finally steps inside. Only then do I notice that he has Teddy cradled against his neck, holding him in a way that one arm is enough to keep him safe. The toddler’s eyes are closed.

“Uhm…” he starts but before he can say anything, Andromeda is out of her seat.

“Teddy. Is something wrong with him?”

But unfortunately all her fast movement has only cause Draco to tense again and take a step back. Automatically he clutches Teddy tighter. Whether that is to protect the little boy or because he himself needs something to hold on, I don’t know. I get up to, but slower as Andromeda is frozen in place after seeing her nephew’s reaction. I lift my hands.

“Draco?” I ask, trying to get his attention, “Hey Draco, look at me,” when I see his eyes turn to me, I smile at him in an attempt to calm him, “Everything is okay. Calm down. Now, what is with Teddy?”

He blinks nervously, “Sl-Sleeping,” he mumbles, “Fell asleep playing.”

I see Andromeda relax, but she still doesn’t move. I on the other hand step closer to the nervous man, still smiling. Of course he would never hurt him. Seeing no adverse reaction as long as his aunt stays back I extend my arms towards him.

“Can you hand Teddy over please? Andromeda is worried.”

Another blink followed by some moments of silence then, “Won’t hurt him?” wide grey eyes turn to me, making my heart clench.

I smile sadly, “Of course she won’t hurt him, I promise.”

After another very cautious look towards the woman, he allows me to pick Teddy from his arm. How he got him securely up there is a mystery in itself but I won’t ask. I get a long last look from grey orbs before he hurriedly turns and swishes around the corner and off somewhere into the rest of the house. I turn to Andromeda and hand Teddy into her arms. She presses the toddler close, burying her face in his hair. I let her have a few moments.

“You should probably put him to bed,” I say softly.

She lifts suspiciously bright eyes, clears her throat and nods, “You’re right. It was a nice afternoon. See you soon Harry. And I wish you luck with your studies and…” she swallows heavily, “And Draco.”

“Thanks Andromeda. Goodbye,” I respond as she disappears through the floo.


	24. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for your comments, kudos and support.
> 
> A bit of a filler chapter, main story continues in the next one.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of rape and abuse
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

Running.

Running through the woods. Where am I? After a moment I recognise the Forbidden Forest. I swallow. Nothing good comes from there, especially when it’s as dark as it is right now. And I am correct when I hear a cackle from behind me.

I jump and try to force my tired legs faster. I would recognise that cackle anywhere. Voldemort! Not again. He’s dead and I know that but my body just keeps running.

Suddenly I stumble and would have fallen if I hadn’t caught myself on a tree a few feet further ahead. I pant, eyes closed tightly as I take a moment to regain my balance. Luckily Voldemort seems to have disappeared. Thinking myself in a moment of peace I open my eyes.

Only to scream.

There is a clearing in front of me. And the grass is littered with bodies. Dead bodies. And I recognise every single one of them. All of them people important to me.

Ron, with blood covering half of his head, skull cracked open. Hermione’s eyes are vacant, burn marks of a death spell at her temple. Teddy’s small body twisted and pale. Sirius looks like when I saw him fall through the veil, seemingly floating in the air. A crushed figure is laying next to a dead George with slit wrists.

Tears fall from my eyes and my body starts to shake as my gaze wanders over all the other figures laying all around the clearing. All of them are dead! Everyone I cared about! Why?! What happened? I defeated Voldemort didn’t I?

Just as I am finishing that thought, the cackle sounds again. But this time I am unable to move and a figure that looks like a dementor floats down on the other side of the clearing. I scream when I realise that the being has Voldemort’s face.

“You’re dead! I saw you die!” I yell in panic.

“Of course you did, silly boy. You fell for my trick,” he smirks evilly, then bows down and picks up a figure in front of him, who I couldn’t identify because they were laying with their back to me.

Now I realise to my horror that it is Draco, blood soaking the beautiful white blond hair. When the bony hand changes it’s hold, Draco’s head lolls back, his eyes as empty as everyone else’s. But his face is pulled into a grimace of extreme fear and pain. My chest freezes and nausea creeps up my throat.

“He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?” Voldemort nearly coos, causing a violent shudder to run down my back. The dementor hand comes up, sickeningly caressing Draco’s overly pale skin and I want to throw up, “Yes, very pretty. Such a nice young body, though he really looked better back then,” I feel more sick with every word he says, the question whether that actually happened to Draco coming unbidden to my mind, making everything worse, “But do you know what was the best about him?” one finger traces Draco’s blood-empty lips and I want to scream or do anything but it’s like I am completely frozen, “The way he screamed. Such pretty screams. He held out quite some time,” an evil smile, “But everyone breaks eventually and it was worth it,” his eyes wander up, locking with mine, and he smirks, more like flashing his teeth at me, “Do you want to hear it?”

“NO!” I yell, finally finding my voice again, but he doesn’t care.

He murmurs an incantation over Draco’s dead body and his whole body jolts. Then the inevitable ‘Crucio’ and such a heart-breaking scream fills the woods, that I have the feeling my ears are about to bleed. Voldemort only grins as the other boy’s body contorts violently.

Then I am screaming too.

~ * ~

And shoot up straight in bed. My breathing is fast and irregular as tears drip down my cheeks. One hand is clenched over my racing heart. I don’t stay like that for long though because the nausea from my dream comes back with vehemence and rises up my throat. Hurriedly I jump out of my bed, shaky legs carrying me to the bathroom.

I only just make it before I stumble over a towel on the ground, banging my hand on the sharp edge of a counter. I fall down in front of the toilet and start retching violently into it. It seems everything I ate the day before is determined to leave my body again.

It takes me several minutes until I am calm enough to lean against the cold tiles. My breathing is still ragged and tears are still running down my cheeks.

I sit there for nearly half an hour until I am calm enough to stand up again and splash water on my face. Damnit, I am used to nightmares, but this was a bad one!

I shake my head, both to get some of the water off and to try to get those pictures out of my mind, not that that works. I doubt the look on Draco’s face and those screams are going to leave me any time soon. I cringe when I can’t help but wonder how much of what Voldemort said was true and what my mind just made up to torture me. I hope it was mostly the latter.

Nonetheless my whole body tingles with the itch to assure myself that Draco is still safe in his own room. So as soon as I am sure that I won’t fall if I let go of the sink, I hurry out of the bathroom.

The door of Draco’s room is always slightly ajar, so I hear the soft sounds before I am even there. At first I am relieved because it assures me that Draco is indeed there. But when I come closer I identify the sounds as whimpers. Immediately the tension is back and I hurry my steps.

When I push the door further open, I am greeted with a pale and sweating Draco writhing under his sheets. He is whimpering, his face pinched tightly. Only in the very back of my mind do I realise that his usually unresponsive left arm is twitching like the rest of his body, clenching and unclenching in the bed covers.

“Draco,” I call as I approach him carefully, “Draco, wake up!” 

He groans and twists violently to the other side, biting his lip in what I guess is an effort to remain silent.

“Draco!” I repeat, reaching out a hand, “Draco, it’s just a dream. You have to wake up.”

Still shaken from my own nightmare I don’t remember how bad an idea touching him is until it is too late. As soon as I lay a hand on his shoulder, he screams, shooting up straight in bed. Panicked grey eyes skit around the room, not even seeing me. The first thing that comes to my mind to calm him down is Dragon, so I hurriedly look around the room for the little cat. For once I am glad that I could never teach the animal to sleep anywhere else but Draco’s bed. But my search turns up empty. So out of panic with a screaming Draco in the room, I simply summon the protesting cat wandlessly. Ignoring the meows, I put the warm creature in Draco’s lap. The animal blinks for a moment, then seems to notice the blonde’s panicked behaviour, he immediately starts purring and pressing himself against pale skin.

It takes a few minutes but eventually Dragon manages to bring Draco out of his panic. Grey eyes blink and a shaky hand starts caressing white fur. I have kept on murmuring comforting things the whole time through so as soon as he has come back, he realises I am still in the room and frightened eyes flit up to me. At first I think he is going to panic again, but instead he breathes a sigh in relief.

“Harry,” he mumbles, “Sorry.”

I shake my head tiredly, “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I say softly, carding my fingers carefully through his hair, “I have nightmares too and honestly I would be more surprised if you didn’t have any. It’s fine, Draco.”

He takes a deep breath, bringing the cat to his face.

“You wanna talk about it?” I can’t help but ask (not that I would talk).

He shakes his head, “Just sleep.”

“Okay,” I smile, still stroking his head, “Can I do something for you?”

Grey eyes flit nervously to me and back to Dragon as I help him lay down under the covers again.

“You can ask whatever you want, Draco,” I repeat a line I have said too many time in the last months, “As long as it’s possible I will do it.”

“S-Stay?” he asks with a very small voice.

“You want me to stay? Here? In your room,” I look at him surprised.

He nods nervously, “Not alone. But warm, not bad. Is better.”

I am not entirely sure what to think of what he said but I can’t help but smile as I happily comply with his request, “Of course I will stay, Draco. But you have to move over a bit.”

He gives me a tired but happy smile which warms my chest. Immediately he shuffles over, pulling the sleepy cat with him. I move onto the bed, carefully gauging his reaction. But nothing more than a small increase in the tension in his body happens.

A few minutes after settling down, I feel his body shift. To my surprise I notice that while he has now turned his back to me, he has come close enough to siphon off of my body heat. His own body seems to give off only very little warmth, so I carefully throw an arm around him, in hope to keep him warm. Once again he surprises me when instead of getting nervous, he just slips his ice cold hand into mine. I smile into the cold skin of his neck, more than happy with the current situation.

“Goodnight Draco,” I whisper, but the only answer I get is a released breath.

The rest of the night stays free of nightmares for me and Draco too as far as I can tell. In the morning I wake up with him still in my arms.

I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t one of the best mornings of my life waking up like that. But only before the reality of our situation came back to me, but it was still a great experience. Unbidden the thought came to my mind that this is how I want to wake up for the rest of my life. As soon as I thought that, I blushed and tried to shake it off, despite smiling softly down at Draco’s peaceful face.


	25. Triggers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos.
> 
> I haven't been paying attention because I'm so busy with university, so I missed the fact that I planned to end this part of the series on the last chapter. I only noticed today. However I have no clue what to name or tag the next part yet, so for now I'm going to publish it in 'Healing begins' until I find the time to start a new story. Not sure how to transfer it yet but I will tell you.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of abuse, nothing happens actually, just panic attacks.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

What triggers Draco for the first time is something that has happened before and if it did, it got a flinch from him at worst or nothing. It’s after breakfast and I am carrying our used plates back to the kitchen when I hear something shatter from the living room. At first I don’t pay it much attention, since Draco has dropped numerous things before and usually only waited for me to pick it up. But it abruptly ends the humming Draco had been doing and I frown. Then suddenly a yowl from Dragon sounds, which has me immediately turning back to the living room.

The scene I encounter is not what I expected. A shattered mug is indeed on the floor and Dragon stares at his owner scared, meowing questioningly. Draco himself is standing straight, every single muscle tense. Both hands are clenched, knuckles standing out of the whitened skin. His eyes are wide and sweat beads on his skin, he looks as if he is just keeping himself from screaming.

“Draco?” I ask carefully, reaching out to him.

“No,” he presses out, voice high and panicked, “It wasn’t me. I’m sorry.”

“What?” I shake my head, “The cup? It – “

“No, please!” he suddenly screams and I jerk my hand back, “Please no punishment! I’m sorry! I will be better, I promise! I will pay better attention.”

“Draco?” my voice probably sounds severely confused, “It was an accident, it’s no problem.”

“I’m sorry!” he stumbles away from me, tripping over a book laying on the ground. His right hand shoots up to cover his head in defence, “Please not, father.”

Only now do I realise that he must have fallen into one of the memory flashbacks Hermione talked about. Unsure what to do about it, my first action is to pick up Dragon. The blonde on the other hand has scurried away to cower against the wall. It reminds me of the first days after he came here. But this time he is constantly begging not to be punished. That’s even more painful than his silent panic. I crouch down in front of him, still in enough distance not to crowd him.

“Draco, hey,” I say carefully, “Look at me. You’re not at Malfoy Manor. I am not Lucius. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

“NO! I’m sorry. I will be more careful. I want to make you proud.”

“He’s not going to hurt you. He can’t. You’re safe, Draco. Look at me. You’re fine,” I try to sooth, but every try of touching him is met with another panicked cry, even when it’s just Dragon I push towards him.

“No, please don’t punish me! I’m sorry! I promise I will make you proud! Please!” he whimpers.

“You do!” I answer in my desperation, “You make me proud. Just look at all the progress you made since you came here. I am so proud of you.”

“You are?” he asks and my heart lurches at the childlike hope in his eyes, “You are proud of me?”

“Yes, yes, I am,” I repeat, glad to have managed to draw him out of his panic, smiling relieved.

He blinks at me for a few moments. Just for a second his eyes clear completely, even from the childish haze he lives in these days.

“P-Potter?” he mumbles, blinking tiredly, “What…?”

I gasp, “You know who I am?”

“No please!” he suddenly screams, apparently bringing himself back into his panic.

“You’re safe,” I repeat, trying again to hand him the meowing Dragon.

And this time it works as he grips his right hand in the white fur and the cat immediately changes to a calming purr. I leave him to return to the sofa as my close presence only seems to make him tenser. Instead I collect the broken mug, staring at the innocuous shards which have caused such a reaction from Draco. From what it sounded like this was an earlier memory, from his childhood rather than any time that he could have already known me. Nonetheless just after his panic he seemed to have had a moment of clarity in which he had access to all of his memories. I rub a hand over my face, watching him slowly relax with Dragon in his arms. I want to pull him into an embrace but the risk of triggering a new panic attack is too high right now. So I busy myself with cleaning up the room while keeping an eye on the blonde.

Unfortunately that first attack seems to have triggered the rest of them. Just the same afternoon a loud panicked shriek rips me out of my peace in the library. From shock I drop the book about magical healing I was reading. My wand is in my hand and I am down the stairs before it has even properly registered.

Once again I come in to find Draco curled in the corner, shielding his head with his arm. Looking around the corridor he is crouching I can’t really find anything amiss, even less than last time. My eyes wander over a distressed meowing Dragon to a broken umbrella I had leaned against the wall, planning to throw it out. The old thing is on the ground now, most likely thrown over by the cat.

“Please don’t hit me!” I hear Draco whimper and my heart clenches, his voice sounds so incredibly young.

“I won’t, I promise!” I say carefully, still unsure what triggered this attack. Dragon meows at me, the cat’s eyes wide and he looks ready to bolt. I bow down to scratch the feline, “Did you run over the umbrella?” I ask nervously, eyes never properly leaving the whimpering boy, even as I bow down to put the thing away. But as soon as I touch the handle of the umbrella, Draco gives a loud scream and tries to curl in even further. It causes me to drop the umbrella in shock and Dragon to hiss and scamper under a small cupboard standing in the hallway.

“NO! Please no!” the blonde repeats and I am honestly at a loss about what to do, “I was good, I promise!”

“Of course you were,” I answer confused, “I won’t hurt you. What are you afraid of?”

“Please not. Not the cane,” he whimpers from behind his hand, even bringing the left one up with the help of his knee, “Not the cane. I will do anything.”

“The cane?” I state with confusion and dread at the realisation that that fancy walking cane Lucius was carrying around was not just used for hiding his wand. Swallowing past the bile in my throat, my eyes land on the old umbrella again. The thing is broken, part of the colourful screen torn off. With a lot of imagination or maybe a panic-clouded mind, it could be mistaken for the walking cane of Lucius Malfoy. When Dragon knocked it over it must have somehow triggered a flashback of when his father tried to hit him with it. I sigh a heavy breath.

“That’s not a cane,” I says softly, waving my hand to wandlessly transport the umbrella to the next garbage bin, “It’s just a broken umbrella. And nobody is going to try to hit you with it. No one here will hurt you, I promise you.”

“He hurts me,” he mumbles, carefully peering at me with unseeing eyes, “I didn’t even do anything wrong. Neither did that house elf.”

“I know, I know,” I open my arms in an attempt to reach out without forcing contact on him, “But he can’t hurt you anymore. Never again.”

“Never?” childish eyes look up at me and my throat closes up and I can’t do anything more than nod. When he sees that he launches himself at me, wrapping his functioning arm around me and pressing his still bony body against me, “Please make him stop hurting me. Please, mother.”

My heart clenches again. He is so far gone in his memories that he mistakes me for Narcissa, his mother. Ignoring that I pull him close nonetheless to give him the comfort he needs. After a few minutes of unintelligent mumbling which sound like those of a small child, his voice becomes clearer, more like the mental child in the adult body he currently is.

“Please don’t let him hurt me again,” he whispers, breath brushing my ear, “I have hurt enough. I don’t want anymore. Just make it stop. Please don’t let him hurt me again.”

“I won’t. I won’t. I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again if I have the possibility of stopping it. I promise,” I repeat into his hair and keep on mumbling it as I slowly feel him start to relax in my arms.

I don’t know how long we just sit there, on the cold floor of the empty corridor. At some point Dragon has crawled back onto the blonde’s lap, purring and pawing at the boy which helps calm him as soon as he has recovered from his panic attack. I continue to hold him until I feel him slowly drifting to sleep, drained from two memory induced panic attacks in one day. Softly I shift him to pull him into my arms when I’m sure he’s asleep. The cat curls on his chest, claws extending just far enough to hold himself in the blonde’s shirt without injuring him. I stand up and give a small smile when the gaunt face cuddles a bit into my chest. I carry him and the cat to his room and tuck him in his bed. I sit there even longer, staring down at him with a sad smile until his first nightmare rips him from his sleep.


	26. Panic attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> one day late again, but the last days have been so busy what with going towards christmas and learning for university, so I am not going to write a long note either.
> 
> One question though, I've got a few stories on my computer that are written only a few chapters in. I have always been reluctant to upload anything that's not finished, but that means it's likely those stories will never be uploaded.  
Would you, as readers, prefer I upload these few chapters, but remain finished or just never upload at all?  
I am always so unsure about these types of things.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> Warnings for panic attacks maybe?
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

Two weeks later I am exhausted beyond belief. It hasn’t been easy since Draco started getting panic attacks about anything that triggers him. I stopped counting after it reached over twenty, four days in. The blonde has been triggered by any kind of stuff like Hermione predicted. In between the attacks he has mostly spent his time sleeping, exhausted from panicking. There have been instances where I had to put him to sleep by force because he couldn’t calm himself down. Between that and the nightmares I’ve gotten barely any sleep either. It hasn’t helped that we couldn’t get to the one thing that usually calms Draco down. Both of the horse therapy sessions we had scheduled for the two weeks had to be cancelled. Right before the first one, Draco got triggered by a careless wand movement. The day of the second one I found him screaming from a nightmare during his afternoon nap which then resulted in him being too exhausted and wired to go out in the evening.

I let myself fall into the sofa with a long groan. I am basically dozing off when the floo suddenly flares to life. Turning my head towards it sounds like too much effort so I simply wait for whoever just came to identify themselves.

“You look like death, Harry,” Hermione’s voice sounds eventually.

“I feel like it,” I groan.

She sits down next to me, “You want some rejuvenating spell or coffee?”

“That only works so far. I have been drinking coffee, potions and using those spells. But I’ve had less than twenty hours sleep in the last two weeks.”

“Let me guess, Draco?” she sighs.

“Yeah, apparently he has started remembering things past his infant years. That means he gets panic attacks about everything and anything.”

“I told you –“

“Yes, you warned me, I know,” I wave her off, “I just didn’t expect it to be that bad. I mean what’s so dangerous about a pillow?”

Hermione just pulls a face, “It’s going to get better.”

“I hope it will. Neither of us can live like that.”

She nods, then tugs at my sleeve, “Come on, you need to sleep.”

“But Draco – “

“I can look after him for a few hours. Now get up,” I let myself be pulled to my feet, “Anything else new?”

“New?” I blink at her tiredly then straighten up, “Yeah, it’s strange. Sometimes, especially directly after a panic attack, Draco is completely clear.”

She frowns, “What do you mean ‘completely clear’?”

“He called me ‘Potter’ a few times, asked where he was and one time he even asked whether the war was over.”

“It makes sense, I guess,” it earns me a shrug, “That his memories come back all in one, so he remembers you as well.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It simply is,” she responds, “There is not one solution for these kind of situations. It all –“

“ – depends on the person, I know,” I shake my head sadly, “Never thought I would wish for him to return to infant-state.”

“You don’t really mean that,” she says in a reproaching tone.

“Not really no,” I groan as I fall face first onto my bed, “But it would be nice for him to sleep through one night.”

She cringes, “You know you could always put him under a spell or a potion.”

“A potion could negatively affect his healing process and it feels wrong to put him under with a spell just so I can sleep for a few hours,” I grumble into my pillow.

“Well, you are going to sleep now. Draco is sleeping too for now and I will try my best to keep him calm should he wake up. You need sleep more than he does right now,” when I open my mouth to protest, the woman glares at me, “Don’t make me put you under with a spell.”

With an indistinctive grumble, green eyes fall closed and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the raven’s breathing to even out into deep sleep. Hermione shakes her head, takes off the other’s glasses and tucks him in bed with a swish of her wand. Once she is sure her friend is sleeping comfortably, her next way leads her to the second occupied bedroom in the house. Opening the door as careful as she can, her eyes land on the thin figure on the bed. Stepping inside she slowly approaches the blonde. His face is clinched even in sleep. With a sigh she waves her wand over him and his face relaxes.

“Just a small spell so that both of you can have a few hours of peaceful sleep,” she strokes over the pale cheek, “Never thought I would care about Draco Malfoy so much.”

She shakes her head before exiting the room again.

~ * ~

It takes long until I wake again. But eventually my full bladder overrides my tiredness and groggy green eyes blink slowly open. Yawning widely, I heave myself from bed and pad towards the bathroom. After relieving myself and cleaning up, I walk back in the direction of the living room. Expecting Hermione to still be there, I am surprised when all I encounter is a floating message.

‘Sorry, I had to leave. There was an emergency at the ministry. They might finally be moving forward concerning the Malfoy trial. I put Draco under a sleeping charm. It should alert you if something is wrong with him. Hermione’

Reading that, I immediately turn around, my feet leading me to the blonde’s room automatically. The door is slightly ajar so I push it open. But nothing is out of the ordinary inside. Draco is laying on his side, thin body curled in on himself. I tilt my head, normally the blonde sleeps on his back. Smiling softly, I walk over to the side of the bed and kneel down in front of the other’s face.

“Hey Draco. Have you been sleeping the whole time?”

The blonde doesn’t react at all, so I wave my hand over the pale form, dispelling any kind of spell still lingering on him. For a moment Draco startles, giving a pained sound. I immediately start to calm him down. The other falls silent again. It takes a few more moments until grey eyes blink slowly open.

“Good morning, Draco,” I smile.

A pale forehead furrows in confusion, “What?” he croaks out.

Limbs heavy from sleep, the blonde tries to sit up, “Where am I?”

“Draco?” I ask worriedly, hands stretching to stabilise him.

Grey eyes flit to me and widen, “Potter? What the hell?”

“You remember me?” the green eyes are just as wide.

“Of course I do. I - ,” he suddenly breaks off and presses a hand against his temple, “Argh, my head. What the hell is going on?”

“Draco,” I immediately rush up, “I – “

“Since when do you call me by my first name?” the blonde startles, instinctively trying to scurry away from the other, “What the hell is going on? Where am I? Last I remember I was at the Manor and –“ His eyes spring wide, “By Merlin! Vold – The – “

He chokes, chest seizing as the panic overwhelms him. He curls in on himself, left arm moving on purpose for once. I stare at him wide eyed, having no idea what I am supposed to do right now. Touching Draco seems like the absolutely wrong move at the moment. It doesn’t take long for the grey eyes to fog over again. He shudders and his head falls down.

“Draco? Malfoy, are you okay?” I ask tentatively.

Blinking once, grey eyes focus slowly back on me and he tilts his head curiously. His right hand stretches out and pats the bed. After a few moments of confusion he starts to make distressed noises. It takes even longer for me to realise that he is looking for his stuffed dragon.

I sigh, summoning the toy, “Your clear moment is over I guess,” the animal garners a happy hum from him and I stroke his head sadly, “Let’s hope we can lengthen that next time. Still, it was nice to see the old you for a few seconds,” a blonde head pushes against his hand, he shakes his head, “Not that you are not cute like this, but for you to live out there again, we need your old, annoying self back.”

He only huffs and I chuckle.


	27. A step forward at the stable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I apologize for the delay in posting.
> 
> Short notes: I have no knowledge of medicine or horse therapy, so this is all made up. Second, since english is not my fist language, I do not know all the riding specific words and had to use what I thought might work.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

Unfortunately that’s Draco’s only clear moment for the rest of the week. He spends most of the time in his childish haze. At least his panic attacks have eased a bit, even though only little. But every additional hour without one means more peace for Draco and some sleep for me.

Our luck holds until the next Thursday and the blonde is calm enough to go to horse therapy. Hermione has decided to accompany us this time just to be safe. Draco is more nervous than normal and tries to twitch away just before we apparate. At first he seems slow to calm down even with the smell of the stable surrounding him.

Andrea is still busy with her last patient so I guide the other boy to Shenan, who is already reaching her head out towards him. The moment he is within range, she pushes her nose against his cheek, whinnying lowly. One pale hand comes up and strokes the light fur. He turns his head to bury it into the animal’s warm neck.

After a few moments of simply standing like that, Draco pushes himself away from the stable door and bends down to rummage through the box at his feet until he finds the horse’s brush. He unlocks her door and slips in without any help. Shenan pulls her head back inside to nose at the blonde who strokes her head and leans against her with a relaxed sigh.

I leave him alone for a few minutes, only watching him while Hermione walks away down the hall. Eventually I notice him speaking to Shenan again. At first I dismiss it as his usual childish mumbling until I listen a bit more closely.

“ - no idea how long it’s been. What did I do wrong this time?” he seems to think for a moment then he shudders, hand gripping the pale fur tightly and Shenan whinnies comfortingly, “No, I remember. By Merlin, f-father sold them all during my fourth year. Said it was time to stop with the silly plays and that now the real adult life would begin,” he snorts, “As if I was ever allowed to simply be a child. No, but taking away my last sanctuary was apparently supposed to harden me. Didn’t work out. All it did was turn my life into an actual hell,” he strokes her side, shivering again, “Is the war really over? Or am I dreaming again?”

Andrea startles me when she steps next to me. Just before she can open her mouth and call out to Draco, I put a hand on her arm and shake my head, telling her not to interrupt him. Instead I take up the tool to clean out Shenan’s hooves and push it soundlessly towards Draco. Wandlessly I loosen the sling that is holding his left arm. 

He sighs and sets the brush down once he is finished with it. Spotting the other tool, he bends down and picks it up. Only then does he seem to realise that his left arm is in a sling. He stares at it in confusion for a moment then sighs defeatedly.

“What did father do this time?” he prods and moves the arm carefully as if to test out how painful it is. A frown creases his forehead, “It doesn’t hurt though. But why can’t I remember it?” he shrugs, “Maybe he knocked me out again…”

His mumbled words cause Andrea’s eyes to widen, a hand shooting to her mouth. I am shocked as well by the blankness he talks about this as if it’s as normal as the weather. Meanwhile Draco is fiddling with the holdings of his sling. He manages to get it open enough to wriggle his left arm out of it. A short look at the thick scars peaking from under his sleeve garners a sigh then he transfers the tool into his left hand. The right one reaches down to Shenan’s feet. She starts to lift the hoof he is aiming for on her own and he praises her softly for it. She snorts as he grabs the hoof and starts to clean it in slow, halting motions.

“He’s using his left arm,” Andrea whispers to me, “I thought you said he couldn’t.”

“Like I said, it’s psychosomatic I think. He’s been having clear moments in the last weeks. During those times he’s mentally there enough to move his arm. Though never to this extent up until now,” I answer, watching the other boy with fascination.

He cleans all four of Shenan’s hooves with silent determination, slow and methodical. Afterwards he straightens up and strokes the mare’s head, praising her. She snorts and rubs her nose all over his chest. I can’t help but shake my head, the Draco I knew from school would have thrown a fit from having animal fur all over him. But instead he just smiles, rubbing between her eyes.

Suddenly the only other patient still here, a disabled girl down the hallway squeals loudly in happiness. Of course that startles Draco badly. He jumps, causing Shenan to throw her head up as well. He gives a short yell, before clear grey eyes fog over again. His head drops down as does his left arm, returning to unusable. I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

“Clear moment over,” I say sadly as Andrea nods and walks off to fetch the gear.

I fetch the tools Draco dropped and he tries to get as close to the horse as he can when I pass him. I heave another sigh and readjust his arm in the sling. He can’t move it anymore after all. He stares at me warily but his focus diverts to Andrea as she enters with a blanket. Draco keeps an arm around Shenan while she puts it on and returns with the other part of the mare’s gear. I am a bit confused when she puts it on the horse’s back.

“That’s not the same as last time, is it?”

She smiles at me, “No, that is somewhere between the one we’ve been using before and a real saddle. He seems to have made progress since last time and since he expressed the wish to go faster before, I thought we might give it a try. The stirrups should give him the needed hold for that.”

She nudges past Draco to get to Shenan’s head. She pulls a leather bridle from outside the door and the mare dutifully lowers her head to let the woman pull it on. The bridle lacks the bit in the mouth though and the strap across the nose is thicker with three small rings attached to it.

“Are you coming, Draco?” she asks the blonde who stares at her distrustfully.

But he follows her nonetheless when she leads Shenan out of the door, though he is more likely following the horse not her. He keeps a proper distance to the mare’s rear but he can’t manage to catch up with her yet because his walking is still slow. Inside the riding hall, Andrea hands Draco the long rope she has attached to one of the bridle’s rings. His hand reaches out to take it but looks ready to pull back the moment the woman so much as twitches the wrong way.

Eventually he grabs it and then nearly makes a run for it, as much as he is capable of that, away from us other humans. Shenan snorts but follows the boy happily, moving into a slow trot to catch up with him. Andrea shakes her head in amusement and we retreat to the door of the hall. We watch him lead the horse around the space at an even pace, his movements more stable than they were without her along. After about ten minutes he stops. I frown but this time it’s Andrea who stops me. So I just watch him. He loops the rope loosely around his shoulder. Then with sure movements he starts to fiddle with the girth around the mare’s stomach. Andrea stares with something close to astonishment how he carefully tightens both straps by two holes.

“How does he do that? Even I couldn’t do it with just one hand.”

I shake my head. My guess would be that he is using a bit of wandless magic, which is not something I can say aloud in front of a muggle. But that means that he has enough power, when he is able to control it, to push past the spell we put on him every time we come here. On the other hand, and that is the more chilling part, this can’t be the first time he did this with just one hand because I don’t think he could do that on unconscious magic alone. Or could he? I don’t know enough about magical and especially pureblood children to judge that. Another question to ask Hermione when I find the time.

Andrea eventually goes to collect him after he has adjusted the stirrups on his own as well. I can’t help but wonder how clear he is at the moment. Not completely, since his left arm seems still entirely unresponsive. I would guess most of what he is currently doing is muscle memory. He doesn’t have the coordination to get onto the horse on his own yet though, so I bring the steps with me when I join them in the middle of the hall.

A short time later he is safely on her back, trying to get into the stirrups. Seeing him not really manage it, I do it for him, even if it earns me a dismayed glare from grey eyes. In response I simply grin up to him. His right hand grabs the rains loosely and Andrea starts walking again.

Draco apparently considers fifteen minutes appropriate warming up time. When they have passed though he starts urging Shenan on. Since his movements have gotten a good deal more precise since that first time, she recognises the signals immediately and happily falls into a slow trot. Andrea snorts but with a sigh starts jogging next to the horse. A look back to the boy shows that he is doing something I haven’t seen him do very often. He is moving up and down in time with Shenan’s steps. Up until now he preferred to sit back or just did this for a few moments before he lost strength.

“If he keeps that up for one round we could try moving towards the next step, since he obviously knows the basics of riding even in his subconsciousness,” Andrea is breathing a bit harder because Draco keeps on urging Shenan faster and she has to keep up.

And the blonde manages the movement for the whole round, even gives an annoyed ‘Hey’ when she slows the palomino down after that.

“Calm down, I am letting you trot again in a second,” she shakes her head and leads Shenan back to the middle of the hall.

There she takes the long rope from her arm to her hand and starts unrolling it slowly, motioning towards the mare. The horse starts walking again in circles around her, that become larger with every new bit of rope. Eventually the woman stops. To my surprise Draco is wearing a look somewhere between disdainful and annoyed.

“Lunging really?” his voice sounds as haughty as I have known it to be in our first school years, but his eyes aren’t entirely clear, “I know how to ride.”

“I know you know that,” Andrea laughs, “But you don’t have the balance to control a horse completely on your own yet. And with only one hand you can’t properly hold the reins either.”

He just shifts his hold, then tugs carefully at them and gives some signal that is invisible to a non-rider like me. Shenan stops immediately and shakes her head contentedly. The woman in the middle gets another haughty look. She laughs instead.

“Alright, I concede on the second point, but I am still not letting you off the lunge,” she glares right back, even though her amusement is clear, “Shenan is a good horse but you aren’t stable enough yet.”

He snorts and turns away. Instead he just nudges the mare again and she starts to trot. Fiddling a bit he shortens the reins, bringing up her head without pulling it up too far. I shake my head, apparently reading the horse books with him all the time also imbued some facts about riding in me.

At the end of the therapy session he is as relaxed as always, even though he wasn’t happy that Andrea wouldn’t let him gallop at all. He cleans up Shenan completely on his own this time, except her hooves because a moment as clear as the one earlier doesn’t come again.

Nonetheless I get the impression that his eyes look a tiny bit less fogged over when I put him in bed the same evening. Progress, I hope, as I stroke his hair a last time and leave the room to fall onto my own mattress and drop off before I even pull off my clothes.


	28. Back for a short time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

Days pass and Draco has his clear moments but never longer than a few seconds. Today I am sitting in my office, studying for an exam on magical diseases next week. The blonde is in the next room, playing with Dragon the last time I checked up on him. I have a listening spell on him that works like muggle baby-phones.

I stretch my arms up after a chapter about a particularly nasty illness. My ears catch Draco’s humming and I have to listen closely to identify his words. He is singing some nonsensical children’s song about a ‘Dhalia’. It takes me a few moments to remember that that was the name of the cat the Malfoys used to own when he was very young. I am just about to relax when his tone changes from his childish voice to a more clearly pronounced version. Straightening I listen closer for any sign of distress, only to realise that he isn’t afraid but sounds like he did when talking to Shenan that one time. I smile at his progress.

But before I can turn back to my book, his singing suddenly breaks off and a sharp voice a lot like the one I knew from Hogwarts sounds, “No, you aren’t Dhalia. She was black and – “ a break in his speech has me on my feet immediately and on my way to the other door, “Where am I?” he asks just before I can pull it open.

Dragon meows as he is probably gripped closer again, “Malfoy?” I ask as I enter the room, having learned not to call him by his first name when he has his clear moments.

He jumps to his feet the second he sees me. His usually unresponsive left arm is holding Dragon against his chest while the right searches for his missing wand. Grey eyes narrow at me as he stands defensively.

“Potter?” he glares, his anger a default reaction to cover the panic after coming to at an unfamiliar place with no memories of the recent months, “Where am I? What are you doing here? Where is my wand?”

“Calm down, Malfoy,” I try to sooth him, knowing that if he panics too much, he will drop back into his child headspace.

“Calm down? I have no idea where I am or how I got here,” he crosses his arms, Dragon scrambling to curl around his neck, “And what are you doing here? Is this my new punishment?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I ask.

He glares at me, “Azkaban. They put me there…” he stops, “No, I was at the Manor and father…” once again he shakes his head, “That’s not right either. A palomino horse…” he chokes, arms wrapping around himself, “No, shit, why I can’t I remember?”

Seeing as he is about to break down, I instinctively wrap my own arms around him. For a moment he fights me. Then he drops and I already want to sigh that his mind is lost again, but then his left hand clenches into his shirt.

“Malfoy,” I ask carefully, “Are you still with me?”

“Where else would I be, scarrhead?” he growls and his words strangely enough rip a laugh from me. He stares at me with wide eyes, “Did you lose your head during the time I can’t remember properly?”

“No, but you have no idea how glad I am to hear you insult me,” I can’t stop the giddy feeling.

“You did lose your head,” he glares, pushing himself away. His arms are still wrapped around himself. No matter how much he tries to pretend his old haughtiness, I can see the fear in his eyes. His memories might be fuzzy but he knows what he went through.

“You are at Grimmauld Place 12,” I answer.

“The old Black house?” he continues to glare, “Did you kidnap me? How did I get here?”

“I didn’t kidnap you,” I snort, “Saved would be the more appropriate word.”

“I didn’t need to be saved,” he spits, deep mistrust and fear in his eyes, “I have to go back. Voldemort will kill my parents if I have been gone for too long. Give me my wand back.”

I stop him when he tries to go past me, “Voldemort is dead. The war ended years ago.”

“It did?” he seems confused, “Shit, my memories are all jumbled up. What happened?” I open my mouth, unsure what to say for a moment which earns me a sharp look, “The truth, Potter.”

I can’t answer for a moment and just stare at him. His tone reminds me a lot of our Hogwarts years, the Draco Malfoy I desperately miss, but there is an added tremor that wasn’t there back then. Maybe he was just hiding it. His hair is still whiter than it used to be and I doubt it will ever regain the golden colour from our first years. He is still too thin as well, bones pronounced unhealthily. His face is drawn, but at least his eyes have regained their spark for now.

“Potter!” he yells, trying and failing to hide the panic in his eyes. It seems he needs more time to rebuild his masks, “What is going on?”

“The war ended but they wanted to make your family pay. However you were the only Malfoy they could judge so they loaded it all on you,” I start.

“Yes,” he says slowly, “I think I remember. You…” he stares at me confused and mistrusting, “You spoke up for me. Why?”

“You saved my life, Malfoy. It was only fair.”

“Most people would disagree with you,” he glares, “After all I deserved what I got for my crimes did I not?”

“No!” I glare at him and can’t overlook how he startles at my loud voice, so I soften, “No, you didn’t.”

He sighs and I notice that his hand is shaking as he runs it through his hair, finding it longer than he expected it, “Yes, I did. I hurt people, a lot of them. I killed your precious headmaster, didn’t I?” his smirk is weak and he looks ill.

“No, you didn’t,” I repeat, lifting a hand to lay it on his shoulder only to have him flinch away from it, “I was there, Malfoy. You couldn’t kill him. Snape did it.”

The laugh he responds with is more of a choke, “And how well that went over with Voldemort. Mother wouldn’t have survived the punishment he wanted to dole out to each of us.”

“So you took it for her,” I realise with wide eyes.

He chokes on his breath and Dragon purrs in an attempt to comfort him, “He doesn’t really care who he tortures as long as he hears someone scream.”

“Malfoy,” I breathe.

“What?” he snorts, “Are you feeling sorry for me now? Stop it. I got myself into it on my own and I can deal with it on my own. I don’t need your help or Severus’ or my mother’s.”

“But you didn’t join on your free will, did you?”

“So what?” he snorts, wet silver eyes glaring at me, “It’s not like anybody asked.”

“You could have sought help,” I argue, “I am sure the Order would have protected you.”

“Didn’t you listen? Voldemort would have killed my parents if I tried anything like that. My father isn’t a good man and it would have been his own fault, but my mother didn’t deserve that.”

“You deserved it even less,” I say with conviction.

He snorts, but hurriedly changes the subject, “But you still haven’t told me what happened since my trial. Stop avoiding the question.”

“You were the one who got off track,” I grumble, but answer nonetheless, “They sent you to Azkaban.”

“I know,” he shivers, “The question is how I got away from here to there. No one escapes Azkaban.”

“You didn’t escape. Minister Kingsley signed your release.”

“What? He would never do that. Everybody knows that I am a Death Eater. I don’t think I need to show you my mark to remind you of it,” confusion is added to the swirling chaos of emotions in his wide eyes.

“Because Order spies were pardoned for their crimes,” I say, staring directly at him.

His eyes widen impossibly and every last one of his muscles tenses. Then suddenly he slumps over and a hollow chuckle sounds from his chest.

“So you found out…”

I am not sure what to make of his reaction so I grip his shoulder, ignoring his flinch from the expected pain this time, “What’s wrong? I think that was incredibly brave. You risked your life. You and Snape are the only ones who did that.”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t brave. You have no idea how afraid I was.”

“And you think I wasn’t?” I snort.

“It never seemed that way,” he gives me a weak smile.

“Well, you can be sure I was,” I rub his shoulder and to my surprise feel him relax, “Without you many people would be dead and we might have lost the war.”

“You won, I had nothing to do with it,” he shakes his head, “But it’s unimportant. I doubt I am fresh out of Azkaban, so there was more time in between my release and now. So what else did I lose?”

“Well,” I squirm, “You weren’t in a good state when we got you out of there. Neither physically nor mentally. You were… I have no idea how to describe it, but it was like you weren’t there, just a shell walking around. It took us months to even get you to speak. You have been out of Azkaban for many months now.”

He sucks in a breath, tremors running through his body, “Okay, so I am insane now.”

“No,” I immediately correct him, “You are traumatised, not insane. But alone the fact that I am talking to you now is great progress. Never before have you remained clear for so long. I know that you can recover.”

He snorts, turning his head away, and tries to dislodge my hand but he is still too weak to manage it, “Recover? For what? The world hates me. If I went out there they would rather stuff me back into Azkaban, than listen to what I have to say. I remember that my father is dead and mother is gone as well. There is no one who would care if I vanished. They would celebrate it.”

“I would care!” I argue, trying and failing to meet his gaze.

“Why? Because you couldn’t finish your newest project to satisfy your saviour complex,” he snorts, now forcefully ripping himself away.

But his balance isn’t working properly yet, so he loses control over his limbs and stumbles. His shoulder painfully hits the wall, but he doesn’t make a sound as he slides down to the ground, curling in on himself. He is shaking and maybe even crying, but when I move to calm him, he lashes out, hitting in my direction.

“Leave me alone, Potter. I don’t need your pity! Go away!” he screams.

“No, Malfoy please listen,” I kneel down in front of him, but he kicks out and I fall backwards when his heel hits my shin.

“No one cares and no one should care. I am disgusting and broken, so leave me alone and find a different charity case!” his voice breaks as I am just sitting there frozen. He changes to mumbling, “Father was right. I should have just…”

But I never find out what Lucius said because he suddenly falls to the side, his eyes closed and left hand unresponsive again. I am just fast enough to catch him before he can hit his head on the ground. Sadness choking me, I brush over the tear tracks on his cheeks, cleaning the wetness away. A tear of my own runs from my eye as I pull his unconscious body close to me, curl around him and cry once again for a broken boy whose pain no one recognized before it was too late.


	29. Evening in the kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> I am making this quick, cause I have exam season right now and I don't really have time to post. That also means there might be no chapters during the next weeks.
> 
> Just a filler chapter for this week.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

In the evening Hermione comes to visit. I am sitting in the kitchen, staring into a cup of coffee. She approaches me cautiously when she sees my drawn face.

“Harry, is everything alright?”

I give her a tight smile and she frowns, “Did something happen to Draco?”

“He’s fine,” I respond, “Still asleep, last time I checked.”

“Asleep? He hasn’t slept during the day in months now,” she looks worried now as she seats herself next to me.

I shrug, “It was exhausting for him, I guess.”

“What was? Did something happen?” she repeats.

With a sigh, I focus back down on my drink, “He was there, Hermione. Completely clear for several minutes,” I chuckle, “Called me scarrhead and everything. Just for a few moments it was like he was back and at the same time he wasn’t. He didn’t have any memories past losing his mind to Azkaban. He was…” I stumble over my words, “He was so scared, ‘Mione.”

“He suddenly woke up in an unfamiliar place if he didn’t have any memories of the past years,” she shrugs, “It was to be expected.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t everything,” I sigh, “He thinks he deserves to be punished for what he did during the war.”

“Maybe but he saved more lives than he hurt.”

“He doesn’t see it that way. He dismissed his spying and instead focused on what he did wrong instead,” I say helplessly, “He…” I have to swallow, “He called himself broken and disgusting.”

Hermione opens her mouth and closes it again, “I guess he has way less self-esteem than we thought. All just a mask,” she shakes her head, “Another issue you will have to work through once he is clear enough.”

I nod then decide to change the subject, “How is the trial going?”

She groans in response, “Still slow. It’s incredible how incompetent the Ministry pretends to be. I have brought numerous proofs that it’s only fair to pardon Draco, but nonetheless they still clamp up as soon as anyone says ‘Malfoy’. I have resorted to only referring to him by his given name or as Draco Black. I know Lucius did a lot of bad things but blaming a child for their parent’s sins is wrong.”

“Have you achieved something yet?”

“I managed to get them to return a few of the Malfoy properties they confiscated as well as a small part of the money they took.”

“The Ministry confiscated the Malfoys’ belongings? Is that legal?”

She pulls a face, “Yes and no. Technically it’s not allowed to simply take a family’s money and properties as long as there is still an heir of sound mind. However they declared it as reparations for what the Malfoys did during the war, which made it kind of a grey zone. The wizarding world didn’t complain though.”

“How much did they take? How much has Draco left?” I remember that the Malfoys used to be rich, “And who is supposed to organise it as long as he’s not capable of it yet?”

“I’m not sure whose job it is to take care of his fortune. Usually it’s his guardians. With his parents out of the picture and Snape, his godfather, dead, it’s more difficult. The Malfoys’ solicitor was killed during the war, so no one is reviewing their papers either. Draco can’t do it himself for obvious reasons, so it might fall to the person taking care of him.”

“Me?” I ask incredulously.

She shrugs again, “I don’t know. At the moment there is little to nothing to take care of. They pay for Narcissa’s care but apart from that there wasn’t anything else to the Malfoy name. I may have gotten the admission to return part of the properties that now belong to Draco, but that doesn’t mean that the Ministry is actually doing so. They used the money they took from former Death Eater families to give sanctions, gifts and those kind of things to war heroes. The same with the properties. They were given as presents to fighters of the light side whether they were really deserving of them or not.”

“Let me guess, now said heroes aren’t giving anything back?” I sigh.

“Yeah, the Ministry insists on informing them why they are taking the houses back, even though it’s not protocol. So when they hear that the property is going back to a Malfoy…” she trails off.

“They don’t return anything.”

“Exactly and that’s not even mentioning what money has already been spent and can’t be returned,” she sighs, “All in all it’s a big mess and we’re still only on returning goods they essentially stole from him. The discussions about paying him back for two years spent in Azkaban underserving haven’t even started yet.”

“I can’t thank you enough for going through all this trouble. I know Draco was a git during school and you never liked him,” I smile at her.

“You didn’t really either,” she grins, “Yet here we are,” then she shakes her head, “I’m not specifically doing this for Draco. I believe in justice and it’s not been served here, so I want to correct it.”

“Still…” I smile at her.

She returns the expression, “I found support though. I met with a woman whose husband used to be a Slytherin. She is more than sympathetic to Draco. She even insists on getting him a Merlin’s Order.”

“I doubt that would go over well.”

“I agree,” she frowns, “Right now, giving a well-known Death Eater an Order might create unrest and that’s the last thing we need. I will be content when his properties have been returned and I can get compensation for his suffering.”

I nod but before I can say anymore soft steps are coming down to the room. Cautious silver eyes peak around the doorframe. I smile brightly at him.

“Good evening Draco,” I stand up to approach him slowly, “Did you sleep well?”

“Food?” he asks, right arm pressing Dragon to his chest nervously.

“Of course,” I smile, ushering him into the kitchen, “What would you like?”

“Soup?”

“We still have some potato soup. Is that alright or should I ask Kreacher to make you something else?”

He shakes his head, “Kreacher does enough. Potato soup good.”

I nod and sit him down on the other end of the table away from Hermione. She watches us softly as I summon him a full plate of warm potato soup. He gives me a careful smile back before focusing down to his meal. I stroke my hand through his soft hair while I stand next to him for a few seconds to make sure he is alright. But he doesn’t seem to remember or care about his clear time this afternoon, so I leave him alone to sit next to my friend again.

“He seems more subdued from usual…” she mentions.

I shake my head, “He’s just tired. It’s late for him and remaining clear always draws too much of his energy. He will be fine tomorrow.”

She studies him for a few more moments before lowering her voice to ask something else, “Do you ever think about the future?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“When he’s cured, what do you want?” her eyes are unreadable.

“From him? Nothing. I didn’t cure him for myself or to have a new project like he accused me earlier,” I frown.

“I know and that’s not what I meant,” she quickly corrects me, “I know you are in love with him, don’t deny it,” she cuts off my protests.

I sigh, running a hand through my already messy hair, “So what? I certainly won’t force him to reciprocate anything.”

“Never thought you would,” she waves it off, “But you would be happy if he did, right?”

I snort, “Who wouldn’t be,” I smile as my eyes focus on the boy now alternating between eating spoonfulls of soup and stroking Dragon, “If, and that’s a big if, he would love me back, not just out of some kind of mislead gratitude. I don’t know,” I shrug, “I was raised in the muggle world, I’m not sure what possibilities same-sex-couples have in the wizarding world… But an official partnership? Maybe even adoption, I always wanted children, though I’m not sure anyone would allow Draco to adopt a child.”

“The wizarding world is more open than muggles. You can marry or bond, which is the wizarding equivalent, whoever you want,” then she grins, “And thanks to magic you can even have children between you two without adopting.”

“What – “ I ask but am interrupted by the chair on the other side of the table scraping over the floor.

Both of our eyes snap up to the blonde. He strokes Dragon’s head as he stands up. Lowly humming under his breath, he waves his movable hand and the empty plate floats slowly over towards the sink. It looks like he planned to put it into the sink, but the plate drops a bit too early. Instead of landing cleanly inside it hits the edge of it and topples down with a loud clanging sound. Draco glares at it as if it personally offended him. I exchange a look with Hermione before we both break out into laughing at his expression. That earns us one of his ‘you’re an idiot’-looks but only causes us to laugh harder. 

Draco huffs and stalks off eventually while we are trying to calm down, all talks of the future forgotten for now.


	30. The importance of looks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,  
I'm back. Exams are over and except the last one it went comparatively well. I think...
> 
> Whatever, new chapter since I have the time and mind presence again.
> 
> Short warning, some more mentions towards rape. Just a short line, nothing happens.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

The next weeks are peaceful. We do our best to keep Draco away from the outside world and anything surprising to make sure not to trigger any relapses. The only times either of us leaves the house is for horse therapy and by now I am quite sick of my own four walls. But he’s getting better. There are several instances where I notice his eyes clearing and his posture stiffening. He doesn’t talk to me during those times. The horses yes, but none of us. If I try to speak to him, he retreats. In fact he actively pretends to still be caught in the haze by purposefully not using his left arm. It’s like he doesn’t want to come back. I would really like to help him get past this depression as well, but since he is far from being clear the whole time we decided to focus on that first.

Nonetheless it’s progress so I am humming lowly as I walk down the hallway. I come past Draco’s room and out of habit throw a look through the partially open door. I grind to a halt immediately though.

“So this is what I look like now…” I hear his soft voice in a mix of anger and sadness.

He is standing with his back to me, bare-chested, in front of the full-length mirror in the room. The shirt I helped him put on this morning is hanging from his left hand while the right seems to be exploring his scarred skin. He looks a lot better than he did when he first came here but it’s still no comparison to when he used to take care of himself either yet. He is still overly thin despite our attempts to get some meat back on him. The muscles he used to have due to Quidditch have disappeared, leaving a fragile looking man in their wake. His skin is also nearly white, since he still spends most of his time inside. From where I am standing I can see all the scars on his back. I looked up ways to remove them but it will take time or possibly never disappear completely.

He sighs, head dropping down, “How long are you planning on staring, Potter?” he grumbles.

I startle, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was just checking up on you.”

He shrugs defeatedly, “What evil am I supposed to be doing? I don’t have my wand.”

“That’s not what I – “ I sigh and step fully into the room, “Are you alright?”

That earns me a disdainful snort, “Would you be? I used to…” he waves his hand angrily at the mirror, “…look good. But this,” he glares at his reflection and I take a step forward because he looks ready to smash the glass, “At best I look like a ghost, at worst it’s disgusting.”

“It’s not disgusting!” I hurriedly interrupt him.

“I look like someone tried to turn me into ground meat!” he yells back, shooting around, rage and despair in his eyes, “My looks used to be the only thing I really had control over and now!”

“The scars just show what you survived through,” I argue, “Yes, it doesn’t look the most pretty, but it shows how strong you are.”

He snorts again, “Unfortunately the world runs on pretty looks and money, not bravery and good deeds. You are still too naïve.”

“I’m not. I’m well aware that the world is not fair. We’ve all lived through too much to believe that.”

His glare worsens, “Oh yes, poor saint Potter. Always such a bad life and everybody else has it so much better.”

“That’s not what I – “ I start up again but then take a deep breath. Arguing like we’re back in school isn’t going to get us anywhere. I know he is only deflecting the helplessness and hurt he is feeling right now into anger. He is riling me up again to divert me from his show of vulnerability. That tactic worked perfectly back in school but I refuse to let him do it again. I pinch the bridge of my nose, “That’s not the point here, Malfoy, and you know it. Don’t try to turn it on me.”

“Oh, look at that,” he taunts me, even though it’s a weak imitation of his old posture, “Saint Potter grew a bit of brain in addition to his oh so bleeding heart.”

Another deep breath, I nearly forgot how he gets under my skin, “Stop going off topic. I’m not stupid and you know that, but that’s neither here nor there,” I lift my eyes to stare into his desperately defiant grey orbs, “I will not fight with you, Draco. The war is over, we’re not on opposite sides anymore.”

“So what?” he glares but I can see his fingers dig deeply into his thin arms until they are creating red dents in the white skin, “Am I supposed to drop to the floor in gratitude in front of you now?” his lips pull into an aggressive, hateful smile, “Or maybe present my ass? Is that the way you want me to show my gratitude? The guards certainly seemed to enjoy it.”

“NO!” I fight the urge to vomit, “Of course not,” I glare at him, as I see one of his nails break his own skin, causing blood to trickle down his arm. He doesn’t seem to notice the pain, “I don’t expect anything from you, except maybe that you give me another chance at being friends once you can think clearly again.”

“Friends?” his tone is incredulous, “Seriously? You rejected my hand in first year and now you want to be friends? After all I have done. Don’t take me for stupid,” he tenses even further which causes him to look like he is about to either run away or lash out.

Wearily I sigh again, “I know you’re not. You’re smart. But yes, I want to be friends with you. You might have done bad things during the war but none of them were on your own free will. Not to mention you saved more people. You are a good person, Draco Malfoy. And if you don’t believe me I will tell you until you do.”

His mouth opens in shock but it closes again without him getting a word out. Back in school I would have revelled in the fact that I managed to shut him up, but now it only fills me with sadness. And fear that he is about to disappear back into his childish haze again. But he only blinks and his eyes are still clear though extremely confused so I continue.

“Not to mention, I realised that rejecting you back then might have been a mistake,” I shrug, now unsure as well, “A lot of things would have been different if I hadn’t.”

“What? A mistake? Why?” he stumbles out, still shocked.

I rub the back of my neck, “On our first meeting you reminded me of my cousin, who…” I bite my lip for a moment thinking about how to word it, “wasn’t nice to me. I had only just learned about the wizarding world and was overwhelmed. So I saw Dudley in you and wanted nothing to do with you,” a self-deprecating smile comes to my face, “But by now I’ve learned not to judge a book by it’s cover. It was a Gryffindor who betrayed my parents and I know two Slytherins who risked their lives for the light side. But at eleven I couldn’t really see past black and white.”

When I raise my eyes again, he is still staring at me like I lost my mind. Or as if he is doubting whether he lost his.

“Are you fucking with me?” he hisses, “Or is this some kind of ploy to make me trust you?”

“I’m not,” I repeat patiently, “I’m not good at lying as you know as well. So even if I was trying to gain your trust I wouldn’t be doing it by lying.”

“But… Why?”

I smile, “Because now I can see the world clearly instead of through the black and white screen I employed when I was younger. The Weasleys and Hagrid were the first people who accepted me and you insulted them all. I was impressionable,” I shrug, “Maybe if you would have been the one to sit with me on the train, you would have been my friend and not Ron.”

“You want to tell me it’s all based on coincidences?” once again he looks at me like I lost my mind.

“It’s certainly a big part of it,” I give him a wry smile, “A lot of things would have been different if we would have become friends back then.”

“Probably no one would have been there at the Manor to keep Bellatrix from calling Voldemort,” he says hesitantly.

“Exactly,” I grin broadly at his words, “No one there to save us.”

Another snort and he shakes his head, “I didn’t save you.”

“But you bought us time,” I have approached him during our talk and am now close enough to lay a hand on his arm. He stiffens at the contact and tries to pull away but I squeeze minimally and he relents even though he still looks ready to run, “Enough time to manage an escape.”

Suddenly all tension drains from him and my hands shoot out to catch him if he should collapse but he bats me aside, “I should have done more.”

“You really couldn’t,” I sooth him as I kneel before him when he sits down on his bed, “You kept Luna and Ollivander alive and risked your life to get information to the Order.”

“I should have changed to the ‘light side’,” he says the words with disdain, “before they could brand me.”

I sigh, taking his hands in mine, because I don’t dare to hug him, “As much as I hate to say or even think it, because it’s not fair to you, but… By getting marked and subsequently being forced into Voldemort’s inner circle, you did more good than you could have ever done if you joined the light side straight away.”

“Right,” he sighs, “They would have just locked me up somewhere because they wouldn’t have trusted me thanks to my father.”

“Probably,” I nod sadly, rubbing his hands until I feel him relax the slightest bit.

“Are you alright now?” I ask carefully about a minute of silence.

He sighs, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I will ever be okay.”

“You will be,” I say, slowly pulling his cold body towards mine until his forehead rests on my shoulder, “You will probably never return to who you were before, but I’m sure you will recover. You are strong enough for it,” I stroke his hair as he shudders, repeating words I said to Hermione many months earlier.

He on the other hand only wordlessly shakes his head, “I’m not so sure.”

“I am,” I repeat patiently, “I believe in you.”

Once again he shudders, “I don’t understand why you are suddenly being so nice to me?”

“Maybe because I see a bit of myself in you,” I murmur, not wanting to reveal the real reason behind it, “A boy forced into his role and side of the war before he even understood what the war was about. I didn’t have any choice to be anything but the boy-who-lived and no one asked you whether you really wanted to be a Death Eater. Not to mention that neither of us had the nicest homelife.”

It earns me another shake of his head, soft blond hair tickling my cheek. I sit there silently, letting him rest against me. After some more minutes I realise that his breathing has evened out. Shifting him cautiously, I turn his head towards me. His eyes are actually closed. He has fallen asleep. I sigh, but remember that a longer clear phase is usually followed by him needing to sleep. So instead I shift him again until I can lift him into my arms. His bare skin is ice-cold from standing half naked for so long. Being careful, I lower him into the bed and put a soft shirt on him after healing the small wounds he made with his nails and clean the blood from his skin. Then I cast a warming charm on his blanket to chase the cold from his skin. I pull the cover over him, smiling down at the peaceful face, and run a hand over his hair. He looks so much younger when he is asleep. After a last check around the room, I turn around and walk out the door, closing it only partway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> I know Draco is kind of OOC, but I think it's understandable in his situation.  
As for the things Harry said, this is my personal opinion on what happened in canon or could have happened, and not everyone's as I'm perfectly aware.
> 
> Hope you liked it nonetheless. Comments and kudos are always appreciated.  
Not sure when I will post the next time because despite having holidays I need to go to work and move to a different appartment too.


	31. Saddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I deeply apologize for the delay in uploads.  
However I have been driving myself insane with anxiety over my grades for this semester (because I already screwed my studies up one time and I can't afford to do it again). So whenever I wasn't working, I was diving deep into escapism by playing games, watching asian dramas and kpop videos (I'm not sure how I ended up there either). I entirely forgot about updating.  
But when I got the first 3 grades today, they all came back with a 1, at the beginning (german university system where 1,0 is the best you can get and 5,0 the worst). So my mind is collected enough again to upload, yay ^^'
> 
> Now to the actual chapter.  
I know I'm repeating myself, but english is not my native language. So while I used to ride as well, I do not know any riding specific vocabulary. Online dictionaries couldn't always give me a translation either, so I blame it on Harry not knowing anything about riding i some descriptions sound a bit strange.  
The next few chapters are a bit horse heavy, because at the time I was writing them, I was severly missing riding myself.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

We’re at the horse therapy stable one week and two days later. Andrea is late and Draco has been stroking and murmuring to Shenan since we arrived. As most weeks his mind clears to some extent when he interacts with the mare. I don’t speak to him when it does because it tends to scare him back again. But since we’ve been waiting for quite some time he seems to have become impatient and I notice him fiddling with his sling to my surprise. He manages to loosen it. Once he has, he turns to me, right hand now clenched in Shenan’s mane.

“Potter,” he glares at me, the animal behind him giving him a confidence boost, “Do you know where her care box is? I am perfectly capable of preparing her on my own.”

I look around and spot the requested item a few feet away from me, the label reading ‘Shenan’ clearly. I grab it and try to hand it over to him. His right hand clenches more in the light hair and he presses his left arm against his chest. He either doesn’t want me to touch it or doesn’t want to touch me with it. So I squat down in front of him, making sure to move slowly and not startle him. He watches me warily but doesn’t move away. Shenan whinnies comfortingly and nudges her nose into his neck, but his eyes are fixed on me. Carefully I position the box by his feet and retreat again, stepping back to allow him room.

He throws me another wary look before squatting down on the floor and digging out a brush and some kind of plastic oval with ridges and a hold. He stands back up and half turns towards the horse’s door, but never completely putting his back to me as if he expects me to hex him any moment. After a bit of fiddling he manages to unlock it and slip in with Shenan. As soon as her door creaks open, the mare retreats her head to welcome him inside. He strokes her head and murmurs lowly. She snorts and trustingly hangs her head while he steps up to her side. Using both hands he starts to run the brush over her fur for a few times, then drags the brush along the ridges of the plastic oval to get the accumulated dirt out. He repeats the process until he has covered one whole side of her and changes to the other by carefully ducking down under her neck. I lean against Shenan’s window and watch him until I can’t stop myself from asking.

“Why do you do this by hand? Theoretically you could do it with magic right?”

“This is a muggle stable, is it not?” he glares at me past her mane, “I might get away with it if nobody sees me but I would rather not risk it. There is a reason you have bound my magic after all.”

“Yes,” I sigh, conceding to his point, “But your motions are practiced, like you have done it countless times before. That means you did it by hand back then too.”

Another, more vicious, glare, but when I don’t relent he sighs dramatically and runs the brush down Shenan’s flank again before answering, “It is calming to me. My…” he shakes his head, “I was supposed to let the house-elves prepare the horses when I wanted to ride, but I never liked that. Brushing and preparing them yourself is supposed to establish a connection and a first amount of trust between horse and rider. So yes, I prefer to do this by hand and by myself,” angry grey eyes snap at me, “Problem, Potty?”

I chuckle, “Not at all,” I lay my head on my hands where they rest on the window frame, smiling at him, “I like it. I think it’s amazing how you care for the horses. It’s just…”

“…you never expected Draco Malfoy to do anything by hand, especially something where he could get dirty, right?” he refuses to make eye contact, but I can see the self-deprecating smile on his lips.

My smile saddens but I try not to let it drop completely, “Yeah, I guess so,” he stays silent, only continuing his brushing meticulously. I watch him for a few more minutes before I speak up again, “But I found out months ago that I never knew the real Draco Malfoy. So I don’t think I can make an educated guess about what would like or do.”

For a few seconds he glances up at me, his face partly obscured by his own long hair and Shenan’s mane. For the first time since I brought him back from Azkaban his mind is clear but I can’t read anything in his eyes at all. It doesn’t take long until I have to blink and he takes the chance to focus his eyes back on Shenan’s fur. I leave him in peace. When he is finished brushing, he cleans the brush, returns it to the box and grabs the tool for the hooves, all without even once looking at me. He ducks back under Shenan’s neck and lifts her first leg. Once again I watch him until he is finished but he does everything perfectly on his own.

Andrea still hasn’t appeared, so he steps back out, uncaring of the horse hair on his shirt, and closes the door behind him. His eyes flit up to me for a second then turn away again. He crosses his arms in what I now recognize as a defensive action. His gaze is still averted when he asks.

“Where is the room for the saddles?”

“Uhm…” I fidget with my hands, nervous about simply letting him go off, “Are you sure you should be doing that on your own?”

“Like I told you, I am perfectly capable of preparing a horse on my own,” he glares, “I can just go search for the room on my own.”

“I… You…” I stumble over my words. Unfortunately I totally trust him to just walk off and try to find the right room, getting into all kinds of trouble on the way, more likely to hurt himself than if I show him and let him have his way until Andrea finally arrives. I can see no other humans in the stable and the patient I saw earlier is going to be in one of the riding halls for some time yet. So I just hope it’s going to be alright.

“That door on the right directly after the horses. But be careful,” I point at it nervously.

He snorts and turns away. I watch him walk away and start to follow him at a distance. Looking at him, I once again realise how far he has come. His movements aren’t as elegant and confident as they used to be, but he is walking on his own without stumbling or swaying, strong and straight. He still needs to build his muscles back up, but that’s it. His physical recovery is going extremely well, I’m not so sure about his mind yet. He stops at the door and opens it, taking a look inside. He nods and steps through. I follow him once again to make sure nothing happens. Inside are countless saddles and bridles on rows on the wall. Among them are the girths Andrea used for Draco up until now.

“At least they are labelled,” I hear Draco mumble as he scans the names pinned to the wood stands under the horse gear.

The first he grabs is Shenan’s bridle, pulling it onto his right shoulder. Then he turns to the saddles, completely forgoing the simpler girths Andrea used. When he reaches for the one labelled with the mare’s name, I reach out to stop him. But I retreat my hand again before touching him and instead speak up.

“Uhm Draco, not to interrupt. But are you sure you should be taking a normal saddle? You haven’t used one before,” I ask him cautiously. He throws me a disdainful, unbelieving look and I amend, “Alright, maybe you used to. But a lot of things changed since then,” he rolls his eyes and turns away, “Draco, please. I’m worried.”

He sighs, head falling down, “I will be fine, Potter. I feel more at home on the back of a horse than I do on a broom. A saddle is more secure than those lunging girths. They are mostly used for vaulting, because they need the space to do their exercises and for people who can’t use stirrups,” he shrugs, bringing his arms under the proper saddle and the blanket underneath it, “And yes, I used to ride with a saddle but when I was sure I could get away with it because no one saw me, I would ride without anything.”

“On the horse’s bare back?” I stare at him. How is that supposed work? I touched Shenan’s fur, it’s kind of slippery, I can’t imagine getting any kind of grip on that, “Isn’t that difficult? Or dangerous?”

“Maybe,” he snorts, “But it also gives you the best connection to the horse. Difficult yes, but also the most relaxing to me,” he sighs again as he positions his arms differently because his muscles are still weak and a saddle is heavy, “I am well aware that I don’t have the balance and strength for that at the moment, but I am perfectly capable of riding with a saddle.”

Eventually he seems to manage to get the right grip to lift the saddle. He grunts and I see the weak muscles in his arms strain as he lifts the heavy saddle up. Instinctively I take a step forward to help him but he glares at me and I stop. I follow him closer on his way back though. I can see the strain the weight is putting on him when he sways and his arms shake. I see his face twitch as well which has me worrying that he is about to drop off again. I hurriedly take another step closer. Luckily there is a stand for the saddle in front of Shenan’s window and he manages to put the equipment on it before his arms completely give away. He stumbles and bangs his shoulder against the wall. He cringes and slumps.

“Malfoy?” I approach him carefully and lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Hm?” dazed grey eyes snap up to me and I sigh.

But before I can draw him into my arms, Shenan whinnies to get his attention. He smiles softly, the blissful empty version of a child. I run a hand through my hair as he strokes the horse’s nose. I let him do it and instead throw a look towards the end of the stable to where I hope Andrea will appear soon. She doesn’t but after a few minutes Draco’s figure straightens again. I don’t notice it because I have been looking away. I only turn back when I hear the jingle of the stirrups and the sound of the saddle being lifted again with some grunting.

“Malfoy?” I repeat confusedly.

“Could you make yourself useful for once, Potty,” he hisses, certainly there again, “And open the door for me. I don’t have a free hand and I’m not sure I can pick the saddle up again if I put it down.”

“Uhm, of course…” I move forward, still not sure about this, “But – “

“I will be fine,” he glares at me, “Now stop bothering me, Saint Potter.”

I sigh, “I still think this is a terrible idea,” I mumble, but he resolutely ignores me.

Instead he stumbles past me to Shenan, saddle still in his arms. He takes a breather against her side, but then tries to lift the saddle up on her back. It doesn’t work, his arms are too weak to get the equipment higher than his chest. He tries and fails again, causing him to huff in frustration. For a moment he hesitates, looks around to make sure no one but me is watching him, then he mumbles a spell under his breath. The magic he can access past the binding is enough to make the saddle basically float on Shenan’s back on it’s own. He catches it again and carefully lowers it to avoid hurting the mare. Once it’s settled, he starts tugging at the saddlecloth and stroking the fur back underneath it. I watch him in fascination until someone puts a hand on my shoulder, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> I know Draco might be too aware here, but for him (in this story) the horses are his safe place where he doesn't need to hide himself and so he can push past the haze.
> 
> Since I never owned a horse myself, only took riding lessons, I used to ride with a saddle too most of the time. Only twice during a very hot summer we were allowed to ride on the horse's bare back and in my opinion it was a lot of fun though more difficult.
> 
> Hope you liked it. Comments and kudos are always appreciated.  
See you next time. I am sorry for the delay again...


	32. Riding on his own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> bit late, I know.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

I watch him in fascination until someone puts a hand on my shoulder, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

“Harry,” Andrea looks at me when I turn to her, “I’m really sorry for being so late. The week’s been crazy. One of the horses is sick and a patient called to reschedule and we had serious troubles finding a new date. I have to apologise.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug, pushing her backwards so Draco doesn’t notice her, “He… found himself something to do.”

“He’s…” she stares in confusion, “Where did he get – Did he saddle Shenan?”

I nod, “The horses keep him clear as long as no one interferes with him,” I look at her unsurely, “I hope it’s okay. I know he isn’t really well enough for that yet and that you as his therapist would stop him, but…” I turn my gaze back on him, “He was there and he,” I snort, “he used to be an extremely stubborn person, so he wouldn’t let himself be deterred. So I thought it might be better to let him have his way but under supervision than go off on his own and get hurt in the process.”

“It’s alright,” she cuts me off, “If he is actually up for this, it might be good to let him take this step. This is a known and safe environment for him. It’s true normally I would advise against letting him take such a leap on his own, but Draco has always been…” she searches for a word, “special. It’s like he is a totally different person when he’s with the horses from what you have told me.”

“That’s true,” I nod as I watch him put the bridle over Shenan’s head, carefully inserting the mouth bit before she lowers her head to allow him to pull the leather over her ears.

“Alone the fact that he managed to saddle her on his own. How did he get the saddle on her back? I didn’t think his arms were strong enough for that,” she frowns at the horse, “Did you help him?”

“No,” I cringe, I can’t tell her that he used magic to lift it up.

It earns me a strange look but in the end she dismisses it, “I have seen riding students who are worse at saddling then he is.”

“He said he used to ride without a saddle. Is that possible?”

“Possible? Sure,” she tilts her head, “It’s only for experienced riders though. You can ride without a saddle, without a bridle or with neither.”

“How do you control your horse then?” I stare confused.

“You have never been horse riding have you?” she seems amused when I shake my head, “You control the horse with your legs and by shifting your weight. Most people use a ring around the horse’s neck when they’re riding without any bridle which helps. But of course you need to be very good at riding in general and have to trust the horse completely.”

“Wow,” I nod, failing to stop myself from imagining a younger Draco riding on a snow-white horse without any equipment.

The creaking of Shenan’s door and the rustling of the straw draw my eyes back to Draco. He peeks out into the hallway and immediately stiffens when he spots Andrea standing next to me. But the mare snorts and the woman respectfully retreats a short distance to give him the space he needs to step out. Shenan nudges him from behind and he cautiously takes the last step, never taking untrusting eyes off Andrea. Eventually he pushes the door completely open and leads the horse out. She follows him without a hesitation while he leads her down the hall again. His right hand is lightly resting on the reins, barely holding onto them. Just before he reaches the correct door, he stops. I worry for a moment before seeing that he only bends down to retrieve a helmet from the floor.

“You should maybe look into getting him proper riding lessons instead of the therapy?” Andrea says, “Or maybe in addition might be better for now.”

“Do you think he’s ready for that?” I ask, as I watch Draco fight with the heavy door to the riding hall.

“I don’t know,” she answers, “but even though all our horses have normal saddles, this is a therapy stable and we don’t give riding lessons. I am pretty sure he will grow bored with the therapy program soon. Nonetheless horses seem to be doing him a load of good, so normal riding lessons might do him good without boring him,” she looks unsure for a moment, “He can’t simply start riding in a group lesson of course, you have to find a stable that can work with his situation. Or his own horse if you have the money and possibility. Changing horses constantly might be a bad idea.”

“I have the money theoretically,” I answer, a good horse can’t be that expensive and with both my vault and whatever Hermione can get back for Draco we should be able to pay for it, “But if you have your own horse you need to take care of them every day and I don’t have the time for that. Draco can’t go out alone and he’s not clear every day.”

“A riding school then,” she agrees, “I can give you the address of a stable where I have sent patients before. I know they give riding lessons but make the adjustments if someone needs special treatment due to an illness.”

“That would be good,” I thank her.

While we were talking Draco has led Shenan into the hall and is now walking along the wall with her at his side. To my surprise he is not even holding the reins, only loosely slung over one arm while he is fiddling with the helmet with both hands, left fingers stiff and slow. The mare is contentedly following his lead even though he’s not touching her. Andrea smiles in wonderment as she watches him. Eventually he manages to put the helmet on, staring at the dirty thing with disdain. A wave of his hand over the black plastic has it clean in an instant. I freeze for a moment before darting nervous eyes to the muggle woman, but luckily she doesn’t seem to have noticed Draco using magic.

It takes two more rounds of the hall until he returns to the middle of it. He loops his arm through one rein before stepping up to Shenan’s side and pulling the closure of the saddle tighter. The horse snorts, but lets him do it without complaint. He strokes a hand down her flank soothingly before continuing on to adjust the stirrups. When he returns to the side we can see, he stumbles and slumps against the palomino for a second. I sigh, recognizing the signs. Andrea and I step forward to catch Shenan who is nosing the boy in confusion. But before we can get closer than half the hall he straightens again, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. I pull Andrea back to our post near the entrance.

Draco stares at the saddle and Shenan’s back for a moment as if contemplating how to get up. He pulls a face, changing to looking around the hall. Eventually he spots some kind of heavy wooden cross in the corner. Grabbing the horse’s reins again, he walks over there and carefully positions the mare until the left stirrup is dangling over the cross. Taking a deep breath he tests the stability of the cross before stepping up onto it. His feet aren’t much lower than the stirrups now, so he puts the left one into it. His hands grip the front of the saddle and Shenan’s mane tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white. I worry and want to start towards him, but Andrea puts her hand on my arm.

“Don’t. If you make a sound or approach him, you will startle him and he will certainly fall. You trusted him this far, you have to trust him now. That thing is not supposed to be used to get on a horse’s back but the steps are next to us and he didn’t want to go near us as long as he could help it,” she insists.

“What is it then?” I ask, gaze never leaving the pale boy.

“It’s for jumping or gymnastics. You use two of those and put a bar from one to the other or two bars where the other side lays on the ground. The bars are a bit in the air and the horse has to jump or at least do a bigger step. We only use it with very advanced patients to help them adjust to sudden bumps like a horse jumping.”

I nod absentmindedly. By then Draco has managed to get onto the saddle after two failed tries. He is breathing hard and gripping the white mane tightly while as soon as he settles. Once again I look on worriedly, but Shenan turns her head and tries to nudge at him. He gives her a tight smile and reaches out to caress her neck. After about a minute of adjusting and calming down, Draco straightens and slips into the second stirrup. On a signal Shenan steps forward and starts walking. The reins are still hanging down freely and she snorts happily.

“Shouldn’t he take them up?” I ask.

Andrea shakes her head, “They are only warming up. He doesn’t need the reins yet and if he’s as good as you say, technically he doesn’t need them at all.”

“I don’t think he has the needed coordination for that yet.”

“Neither do I,” she agrees.

He spends about seven minutes riding Shenan slowly around the hall in varying figures. There is one moment where I worry he has dropped off again because he slumps into the saddle, but it doesn’t take long for him to straighten up again. I have to wonder how he manages to stay clear so long and not fall asleep every time he drops off. Close to fifteen minutes after entering the hall he slowly grips the reins, carefully shortening them and bringing Shenan’s head up. The mare snorts but easily goes along with it. Once he has her where he wants her, his heels lower and he presses his calves against her side. The palomino seems to throw him a look but after a moment of deliberation starts to speed up and eventually changes into a slow trot.

We watch Draco trot and walk the horse around the hall for nearly half an hour, making small talk most of the time. Both of us are keeping an eye on him, but he stays safe the whole time. He has his moments where he seems to drop off which is usually accompanied by Shenan slowing down. But it doesn’t take longer than a few seconds each time before he straightens up again. He does several exercises, even stopping the mare and have her walk backwards once.

Now I see Andrea perk up when he changes his position slightly. She stands straighter and looks ready to walk over and stop the horse. However Draco sees her approaching and glares. On purpose he urges Shenan on further and before Andrea can even remotely reach him or call out, he clicks his tongue, nudging the horse again and she starts galloping. Now I realise what the woman was trying to stop. They have been trotting for weeks now but she has never let him gallop, no matter how much it annoyed him. But now she is too late and stepping into the mare’s path is too risky for both of them.

So instead she steps next to me with a sigh. Shenan’s gallop is calm and slow. He lets the reins go and for a moment I think that his strength ran out but then I realise it was on purpose. It takes two rounds of gallop before I suddenly see his eyes flicker. And he seems to notice it too as he carefully slows the horse down without ever recollecting the reins. She slows to a trot and then a walk, whinnying softly. He strokes her neck for a moment, teeth gritted. I can basically see him fighting with himself and his tiredness. I also see the moment he loses the fight as the light goes out of his eyes and he slumps in the saddle, nearly loosing balance to the side as well. I stabilise him with a nonverbal spell because neither of us is close enough to catch him.

Shenan stops immediately, turning her head. I walk over with a soft smile, Andrea following me. I reach up to a nearly asleep Draco while the woman grabs the reins to hold the palomino still. I end the spell only to have the blonde slump into my arms. Andrea walks around the horse to pull his right foot from the stirrup as I do the same on my side. Using a small lightening charm allows me to slide Draco off the horse because his eyes are already dropping. He slumps against me as soon as his feet touch the ground. I smile unsurely at Andrea after handing his helmet back at her.

“It’s fine,” she waves it off, “I will give Shenan time to calm down and clean her up myself. You take Draco home.”

“Sorry,” I rub the back of my neck, “He’s often tired after staying clear for longer periods of time.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem. I will give you the address next time then?”

I nod and heft Draco more securely at my side. Saying goodbye to Andrea, I lead a nearly sleeping blonde out through the stable. When we step out of the front door, he finally falls asleep completely. But since we’re out of sight of any muggles I can simply use a lightening charm to make him easy to carry for me. I disapparate, landing at home directly in his bedroom. I clean him up magically before changing and settling him in his bed. Dragon comes strolling in through the door and when sees the blonde jumps up on the bed and rolls himself in next to his head, purring lowly. I smile a last time before leaving him be for the night.


	33. More horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I apologize for the delay in posting.  
However the current situation isn't doing me any good. I used to shut myself inside my room one to two years ago due to my mental health on my own. It simply wasn't a good time for me. I got better during the last year but now that I'm forced to stay inside, everything is coming back which makes it difficult for me to update. So I'm sorry, I will try to do better and if I'm lucky germany might lighten the restictions again on the 20th of April.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos, they are always appreciated.
> 
> This chapter is still more of a filler, because I was missing riding at the time I write it, but the story will continue in the following chapter.  
For a long time I had no idea what Draco's horse was supposed to look like (nor her name), until I saw a horse called 'Carenina' at the Munich Indoors 2018. White front turning into dapple-grey towards the hind legs. Legs, mane and tail nearly completely black.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

It takes me several more weeks and some training to go outside until I trust that Draco will make it through a visit to a normal stable with all the people without having some kind of relapse. I still chose a time when I hope that there will be comparatively few people around. During preparing the blonde is excited because he thinks we are going to Shenan. Nonetheless he is only in some kind of half-clear state, behaving like he is back to before Hogwarts. It makes for a strange mixture between his haughty manner, an ingrained fear and childishness.

Stepping out of the front door still has him tensing and trying to pull away and return to the safety of the house and Dragon. But in the end he lets me pull him along even if he is clearly reluctant. He doesn’t protest apparating but when we appear in an unfamiliar setting, his muscles immediately tense in preparation to run away. I hold him tight without hurting him as he stares at me with wide grey eyes.

“It’s alright, Draco,” I try to sooth him, “No one is going to hurt you. We are just going to meet some new horses, how does that sound?”

“New horses? Where is Kari? Will she be there?” he asks confusedly, “You said I could keep her.”

“Kari?” I repeat with the same confusion, using his distraction to pull him further to our goal, “Who is she?”

“Kariana’s Dream,” he frowns now, “My horse. Father bought her for my tenth birthday. Well, actually he wanted to buy her brother, but I went with him to the stable and managed to convince him to buy Kari instead. That stallion wasn’t nice,” suddenly his eyes fly wide, “Uh, I wasn’t afraid of course. Just…” he searches for words, “I worked much better with Kari and…”

“It’s alright. I understand,“ I interrupt him.

“So where is she?” his eyes grow even wider, “You didn’t sell her, did you?”

“No, of course not,” I hastily shake my head, even though I have no idea where his horse is now. From what I found out, she probably got sold together with all the other Malfoy horses. Maybe I can find out who bought her. Andrea advised us to stick to one horse after all.

But his mind is immediately distracted when the first fence comes up on our right. Draco gives a careful smile and pushes away from my hold. I let him go as he walks over to lean on the wooden bar. A young-looking brown horse, only barely having outgrown his foal age, trots over curiously and noses at his hand. He tries to stroke the horse’s snout but the animal shies away, so Draco simply extends his hand instead. The little stallion snorts and cautiously sniffs at the pale fingers. In the end curiosity wins over wariness again though and the white-tipped nose is pushed against the blonde’s chest. Draco laughs and strokes the thin neck.

“Yes, you’re a fine one, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

I am just watching him when I notice the stable’s owner come towards us. To not disturb him, I distance myself from Draco a bit. The older man nods at me and holds out his hand when he reaches me.

“Hello Mr Potter, Andrea called already to tell me about you and Mr Black,” he looks towards the blonde, “I would be happy to help you.”

“I am aware you are not a therapy stable, but Draco isn’t ready for normal lessons yet either. Andrea said he should go normal riding but I can’t be sure he will make it through a whole session,” I say.

“We have taken on patients from Andrea before. If she says it’s better for them to take normal riding lessons, then that’s what we are going to do,” he smiles, “What special conditions does he need?”

“As few people around as possible. It’s actually best if no one interferes when he’s riding.”

“No one to interfere?” he frowns, “How does that work? I know his problems are more psychological but what exactly do you mean?”

“Well, I guess the best way to explain this, is that Draco tends to shut himself in his head. When he does that he remembers nothing of his life or personality. He barely reacts to outside stimuli and behaves like a toddler. But in recent times he has come out of this more and more. When his mind is there, he acts his twenty years and is fully capable of riding on his own, he actually scoffs at you if you try to help him. Unfortunately he is easily startled back into his mind if someone he doesn’t implicitly trust tries to interact with him,” I explain.

“So it’s actually less giving him riding lessons but more allowing him time to spend with a horse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrug.

When I turn back to Draco, I look just in time to see him climbing over the fence. I take a hurried step towards him.

“Draco,” I call out, but in the moment that the word leaves my mouth, I realise my mistake.

His head snaps around at my voice, eyes wide from being startled. His unbound hand misgrips and flails in the air. Since I can’t use magic out here in the open, all I can do is watch in slow motion how he falls forward off the wooden bar.

To my utter surprise and kind of relief the shock of losing his grip seems to have cleared his mind for a moment as in the middle of falling he curls himself in, protecting his head. He doesn’t manage to stop or avoid landing on the ground, but he does it as safely as possible without using any magic. I breathe out as I reach the fence, to see him sitting back upright again. He is covered in grass and scowling at the stains, but seems unharmed. Before I can say something though one of the two new horses noses at him. The dapple-grey mare pushes her snout into his neck, causing him to giggle.

“I’m fine, Kari. You know that happens sometimes when I ride without a saddle,” he grins up at her and I realise that he seems to think he is back at the Manor when he was still young.

The mare herself looks almost confused for a moment before nudging him again. He smiles at her again, boyish and careful, but still more sincere than I have ever seen. The pale hand grips the grey mane and he lets her help himself to his feet as she raises her head back up. He rises with her until he is standing straight again. Once again I can just shake my head, fascinated at how different he is the moment he can feel horse fur under his fingers.

“How does he do that?” it startles me when the owner steps next to me.

“What do you mean?” I question back.

“That mare,” he points at the grey one Draco is petting and by now nearly leaning on, “Is one of the most difficult horses we have. She used to be a racing champion, but after an injury she got retired, unfortunately it also turned her volatile. Nowadays there are only few persons who can so much as touch her without her trying to bite them.”

I frown at him, “This is a riding stable for unstable patients and you have aggressive horses here?”

“She isn’t aggressive,” he shakes her head, “As long as no one comes close to her she doesn’t care. We bought her cheap because she was supposed to be slaughtered. But she is too fine a horse for that. We can’t ride her, but we can still breed with her. This stable is also part of an organisation saving young horses from getting sold to the slaughterhouses. Also she’s not part of the horses for students. She just lives out here and usually she stays far away from human contact.”

“That’s not what I would call staying away from humans,” I point to Draco who has his hand buried in the grey mane.

“I wouldn’t either,” he shrugs, “Like I said it’s strange.”

“What’s her name?”

“Silver Light,” he tilts his head, “But your friend called her something else earlier, didn’t he?”

“Kari, I think,” I agree, “The name of his horse, Karina’s Dream. I would guess she was a similar colour.”

“He has his own horse?”

“Had,” I correct, “At least he says that. His family used to own horses, but they sold them. I am thinking of trying to track them down, but the papers got destroyed so it might be difficult.”

We watch Draco in silence for a few moments, before I have to ask, “Should he just stay right in the middle of a whole herd? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t advise it, but if you think he is alright…” he stares at the horses, “You know him much better than I do.”

As far as I can see, the blonde doesn’t show the least bit of discomfort and the horses are keeping enough distance, so I’m not really worried.


	34. Getting out of the house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I hate Online-University. This really sucks. (And it's only been a few days) Not helped by the fact that it's a huge chaos at my university.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter finally. With actual plot this time.  
This chapter is also as far as I ever uploaded on fanfiction.net. I have more already wrtten chapters on my computer, but for whatever reasons I could never motivate myself to update them there. Not sure if I'm ever going to do that. I will probably just continue here.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos. They are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

I am pouring over one of my textbooks when I hear the door squeak behind me, alerting me to someone entering the room. Since Kreacher always apparates in, it can only be Draco as no one else is currently at the house. Knowing it’s easier for him to speak if I’m not staring at him, I just sit straighter but don’t directly turn to him.

“Potter,” he forces out, confirming my suspicion that I am talking to Malfoy this time, not his childish version, “My mother is still alive, correct?” he asks, but before I can respond, “I want to see her.”

He does his best to make his voice sound demanding, trying to recreate his old masks, but I can still hear the tremor in it, no matter how much he attempts to hide it. At his request I turn around in my chair. He is standing in the doorway, one arm poised in his side, pretending to be a mixture between bored and annoyed. But his left hand is clenching in the leg of his pants, clearly showing how uneasy he is. Fixing him with my eyes I think his request over. With taking him to the new stable I am trying to get him used to new environments with more people again. But we were only there this one time, three days ago. Not to mention he barely got in contact with any humans this time, only horses. 

As much as I want to take him to Narcissa, that would mean bringing him to St. Mungos. Since we can’t just simply apparate to her room, we would have to walk right through the hospital. It’s crowded, chaotic and often loud at the best of times. He is nowhere near ready to go there. If I take him I either risk him panicking and having a relapse or even that the healers will try to force him to stay if he gets scared in the middle of the hospital. He could use the professional help, yes, but I am afraid of what they might do to him when they realise who he is. So I shake my head.

“I’m sorry, Dra… Malfoy, but I can’t take you to her yet,” I say carefully.

“Why not?” he glares at me.

“You know as well as I do, that you can’t go out into crowds yet. And St. Mungos means a lot of people,” I explain.

“So I’m a prisoner in this house,” he tilts his head up, crossing his arms over his chest, the movements of his left arm choppy and slow, “I should have known.”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, “No, Malfoy. Don’t twist my words. I am not keeping you prisoner. You know your mental state is not stable enough to go out into a hospital in full work. The only times you are properly calm are here and with horses. We can’t drag a horse through St. Mungos obviously. I really don’t want to risk you suffering a relapse just because you were too stubborn to wait until you are ready.”

“This is about my mother!” he glares, but his eyes waver in a way I don’t like.

“I know,” I repeat, “I understand that she is important to you, but for now you have to think about your own health. Her state can’t be changed, not for the better or the worse, but you are recovering and we can’t risk a setback.”

“So I am going to be confined to this house for the rest of my life,” his head hangs, fingers digging into his own skin, “From one prison to another. This one’s just nicer.”

Hurriedly I come to my feet and approach him, “No, of course not,” I glare at him, “You are not a prisoner here,” I repeat again. Grabbing his face carefully, I force him to look directly at me, “You are recovering and when you are stable enough I will take you to whatever place you want. But until then, I will not have you relapsing as long as I can stop it.”

He snorts and averts his eyes, trying to tear from my hold, but I keep him still, “I want out of here,” he growls, gaze turned away as well as he can, “It feels like the walls are closing in on me. And the garden isn’t enough.”

I stare at him, trying to read him. His hands are still clenched in his clothing, but his posture is straight. He won’t back down about this. So I sigh.

“How long have you been awake?” I ask him.

“Awake as in not sleeping or completely aware?” he glares viciously back.

“The second one.”

“Not too long. Half an hour before I went to find you perhaps. Why?” suspicion shines from his eyes.

I ignore his question, “Will you let me choose the place we’re going?”

“What?” his eyes narrow.

“I am taking you out of the house if that’s what you really want. But you will have to let me choose the place because you can’t be anywhere too crowded or dangerous.”

“You will?” Still suspicious.

“Yes,” I shrug, “I am fairly sick of the house too if I’m honest. And it’s the logical next step. You can remain clear for a few hours at places where you feel safe. Here or with any kind of horse. The next step is to take you to surroundings where you don’t feel safe yet.”

“And you would know that from where? Did you read it in a book?” he mocks.

“I am studying to be a healer,” I patiently explain, “And since you came here, I have been reading up on trauma patients.”

“So I am your project?” he sneers, “Do you need me for graduation?”

I sigh, does he have to see the worst in everything I say? “That’s not true as I already told you. My professors don’t even know that you live here.”

“And I am supposed to believe you?” he snorts, doing his best to regain his old haughty behaviour, but his whole form is tensed to run.

Sighing again, sadness seeping through me at how untrusting he has learned to be, “I can probably say whatever I want and you won’t believe it, so I won’t continue trying right now,” I give him a sad smile, “Maybe one day you can learn to trust again, but for now let’s get out of the house.”

He stares at me for a few more seconds before he turns and disappears around the corner. I run my fingers through my hair as I walk out after him, heading in the direction of the entrance. After slipping on a jacket and shoes I don’t have to wait long until soft footsteps down the stairs announce Draco’s arrival. I guess he really is eager to get outside. Nonetheless he is also undoubtedly nervous. His left hand clenches in the material of the coat he is wearing and his movements have become slow and somehow clumsy for the first time in months. I watch him worriedly.

“Are you sure about this, Draco? You don’t look too good,” I try to reach out to him, but he bats me away.

“I am fine, Potter. And don’t call me by my first name,” he snaps back, eyes fixed past me on the front door.

Stubborn idiot. But he won’t be deterred and now is as good as any time to take the next step, especially if he is the one initiating it. We can still end the attempt within a moment if it turns out to be too much for him. I have chosen a quiet muggle café around the corner for our first outing. It’s just a small bistro, with only local customers. By foot it takes less than two minutes to get there and there are booths in the back, that shield you from the people out on the street. The fact that it’s muggle also means that we have to worry less about anyone recognizing either me or Draco and causing a scene, even if we don’t use glamours.

“Do you want me to go first?” I ask Draco as he is standing in front of the door, hand hovering in the air nervously.

He shoots me a look that is trying very hard to seem annoyed but to me panic sounds more appropriate. He makes a sound like a growl, I would say he is frustrated with himself. But in the end he does a step back and lets me open the door. I move past him slowly before passing the doorstep. I don’t walk any further though, remaining on the top step. The sidewalk is still a few meters away and we are still inside the protection charm so none of the people walking past can see us. The moment the door swung open and the sounds of the street flooded in, Draco stiffened, doing half a step back before he can stop himself. He looks caught somewhere between fear and determination. Not exactly knowing what to do I wait patiently for him to make his move.

When he hasn’t so much as twitched after two minutes, I start to get worried, “We can stop this if it’s still too much, Malfoy,” I say carefully, “If you can’t go out on the streets yet, that’s completely fine, we will just try again some other time.”

At that he glares at me but finally with a deep breath does the first step forward. Another one and he is past the door, nearly standing next to me on the landing. Scared eyes search me out for one moment before he does the next step, past me now and down towards the sidewalk. He stops again right in front the invisible wall of the protection charms as if he can see them. I close the door carefully and approach him again, making my presence known so he won’t startle.

My eyes never leave him while I slowly make my way down to the sidewalk. I pass the charms, making myself visible to everyone there. I halt and glance up at my companion. Since I can look past the charms, I can see him standing there on the steps. His eyes are wide and he is staring at the street behind me, cars moving past. For a moment I frown, maybe taking him out onto a muggle street wasn’t such a good idea. Did he ever encounter cars before?

But he doesn’t give me time to ponder it longer as a new jolt of determination seems to shoot through him. His figure straightens and his hand loosens from where it was clutched on the railing. The left arm is dug deep into his coat pocket, whether to hide it or to grip onto something to ground him, I don’t know and won’t question. Instead I glare at a bulky muggle who gives me an annoyed look for standing still on the sidewalk. By the time I turn back, Draco is nearly standing next to me. 

His steps are slow, but to anyone not looking he would probably look as regal as his father used to walk. Malfoys probably don’t run or speedwalk either.

I give my charge an encouraging smile when he catches up to me. However no matter how collected he looks on a first glance, he is breathing far too heavily for my liking. His eyes are still a bit too wide if you look closer and his hands are clenched, artfully hidden in clothes to keep people from seeing their state without making it obvious he’s hiding them. I shake my head, amazed and kind of saddened by how good he is at hiding his inner state behind a mask of haughtiness.

I don’t say anything though, because it would just cause him to snap at me. Not to mention he seems better than I expected, even from what I can see behind his covers, so I don’t want to disturb him, afraid me addressing him might break his concentration. Instead I turn and walk down the street. I match my pace to his slow one, making sure to always keep him in my peripheral vision.

It’s around eleven on a workday, so there aren’t many people out on the street much to my relief. Whenever someone approaches us on the sidewalk, I make sure to walk directly next to Draco, as to shield him from the strangers. He tenses every time someone passes us and on occasion tries to back towards the houses on the other side. He has less problems with the cars, unless they make any loud, abnormal noises, like a honk or the squealing of brakes. My guess would be because there is no way he can connect a muggle car to any kind of bad memory, but people are a different matter.

He only startles badly once when a child too young for kindergarten wheels past us with a loud squeal on a bike without pedals. The little girl came from behind, so I didn’t see her on time, therefore she manages to cause Draco to startle badly and nearly jump into the fence to his right, probably banging his hip on one of the metal bars. He stares at the child in fright, clearly holding in a scream he doesn’t want to release in public. It takes him some time to remind himself that it was just an infant that can’t really harm him. I am ready to go back home then and there, but he gives me a glare that clearly says ‘Don’t you dare’, so I wait until he manages to unclench his hands from the iron fence, worry never leaving my eyes.

In the end he does get there on his own, taking a step away from the fence. He connects his eyes with mine again, giving me a minute nod. I return the gesture and slowly continue my path. He follows me, but keeps even closer to the houses than before, nearly trampling through someone’s flowerbeds in the process.


	35. Some scars are too deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I apologize for the slow updates.
> 
> Also this is totally not how I planned this chapter to go. Originally they were supposed to walk to the café, have a calm, peaceful conversation about horses or Quidditch or some other safe topic and then return home. Instead the scene took on a whole different turn on it’s own. Now somewhere halfway through the conversation, we veer off deep into angst and sadness territory. The reason for that was probably that I was watching the end (episode 24) of the anime Assassination Classroom while I was writing this. I hate sad endings T.T
> 
> I wrote that note years ago, but since I never uploaded the chapter on fanfiction.net, it remained in Word.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

We make it to the café without any further incident and I urge him over to a booth in the corner, fitted with soft blue couches, keeping us completely out of the sightline of the people on the street. He lets himself be led and falls into the cushions exhaustedly, burying his face into shaking hands. His chest is heaving fast, faint trembles going over his body.

“Do you need – “ a cheery voice sounds, startling us both.

When I look up the waitress, Lena, is standing there, holding two menus and staring at us. Draco has jumped and, in an attempt to bury deeper into the corner, banged his sensitive left hand on the table. Now he has his other hand over his mouth to stop himself from making any noises and is staring at Lena in wide-eyed fear. Luckily he looks still clear and is effectively fighting his instinct to run.

“Is he alright?” Lena asks me worriedly, indicating towards my companion.

“It’s okay,” I hurriedly wave her off, “He’s not good with people he doesn’t know,” I try to convey that it might be better if she leaves.

Thankfully she seems to get the hint because she turns around immediately to attend a different table on the other side of the café. Draco automatically relaxes the moment she’s gone, even if it’s only minimally. His hands are shaking even worse now when he hides his face behind them again. I long to reach out to touch his trembling shoulder, but touch might startle him again, so I try to get his attention first.

“Draco?” I ask, only to receive a grunt in response. With a slight smile I amend, “Malfoy. I am going to put my hand on your shoulder, alright? It’s just me.”

He gives me another unintelligible sound, but doesn’t twitch when my palm makes contact with his coat. I start rubbing calming circles. They do little to actually relax him but at least it doesn’t get worse.

“Are you okay?” I ask after a few moments.

He snorts behind his hands, “I’m pathetic,” he bites out, face hidden, “I can’t even walk across the street and sit in a café without freaking out.”

I swallow back a sigh at his repeated line of thought, “You’re not,” I insist, deepening my touch, “The last thing you are is pathetic. In fact I think you are very strong.”

“You can’t be serious,” derision has seeped into his voice and if it was anyone else I would think they were crying from how his voice sounds.

“I am,” I carefully inch a bit closer to him, “You are out and about. Yes, you still startle every time some unexpected noise comes or a stranger approaches, but you used to be afraid of so much as going out into the backyard. You have conquered that fear and I know that you will one day manage to overcome these reactions.”

“There is only so much a person can take,” he breathes, voice too tight.

“I know,” now I can’t help pulling him to me, “Believe me I know. But I also know that you can do this and overcome your trauma. You have made it so far already,” I feel a bit like a broken record by now, but if it helps him heal, I’m happy to repeat it every day again and again.

“You don’t know how it feels like,” he shakes his head into the shoulder of my coat, “When the doorstep seems like an unpassable hurdle and so much as going outside is as scary as facing Voldemort. When you’re afraid of every person who passes you, because you automatically think they could hurt you, even children who don’t even reach your knee yet.”

“No, and I will never pretend to understand that,” I try to soothe him, happy to let him lean on me, “But I know what it means to be afraid to leave the house or tent, because someone might jump from behind the next bush. When the whole world decides to depend on you, a teenager, alone and where one wrong move can mean death.”

He shudders, “You always had luck and your friends on your side.”

“I guess,” I agree, stroking his back, “You on the other hand didn’t have much luck.”

He snorts but doesn’t move. I see Lena approaching our table carefully, a questioning look in her eyes, but I shake my head and she turns away again. If we order something I will walk up to the counter myself to order and collect it.

Draco seems to have calmed down at least a bit, so he is starting to pull away again. I hold him for a moment longer, just for my peace of mind before releasing him. He sits straight immediately, but still as far away from the rest of the café as possible. At least his hands aren’t shaking anymore, they are clenched in his lap though, hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. I run a hand through my hair and grab the forgotten menu from the table.

“Do you want a tea? Or something sweet? They make delicious pastries here,” I try to distract him. He blinks at me confusedly, “This is a café after all. I didn’t drag you out here just to walk here and back. I doubt they can reach the standard of tea you are used to from home but a warm drink and something sweet should help you to calm down, right?”

He frowns at me but nods hesitantly, “I will take an Earl Grey and… some pastry, I guess,” he fiddles with his sleeves beneath the table.

I nod, standing up, “You will be alright here on your own for a moment, right?” I ask, only receiving an annoyed glare in return. I sigh, but the way his hands clench tighter doesn’t go unnoticed. I refrain from mentioning it though and head over to the counter. Placing our orders and insisting to let me collect it myself, I keep my eyes on Draco. Nothing happens though. He sits tense and ramrod straight in the corner of our booth. He looks slightly out of place with his strained posture and somewhat fancy coat in the middle of the simple, yet cosy muggle café.

Our orders are prepared fast, so I return to our table with a tray laden with two small plates and cups with the tea still brewing. A small amount of tension leaves Draco again when I sit down. He prods his pastry, picking at it nervously.

“So, uhm,” I start, in an attempt to come up with something to distract him, but anything wizard-related risks bringing triggers into the conversation, so I am running short on topics, “You talked about your own horse back then? Karina, was it?”

He startles at that, looking up at me with wide eyes. He blinks a few times before he seems to orient himself with the shift of topic, “Karina’s Dream,” he corrects me, gaze focused down into his cup of what is essentially still only hot water.

“That’s a long name,” I frown.

“I know,” he snorts, “But it sounds prettier when they announce it during a competition, than just ‘Kari’.”

“Is that what you called her?”

He shrugs, never looking me in the eyes, “I was ten when my father bought her for me. ‘Karina’s Dream’ just seemed like such a mouthful. So where my parents couldn’t hear me, I called her ‘Kari’. It was what she responded to.”

“What did she look like?” I keep on asking.

“A lot like the mare from three days ago, just lighter. More white than grey but with a similar pattern, though her mane and tail were pure black basically,” he shrugs, “My memories are still confused sometimes or foggy. I might be getting things wrong,” his hands clench tighter again.

Instinctively my hands reach out to cover his, “It will come back to you. One day you will remember everything clearly.”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t shake off my touch, but he shakes his head, “No, I won’t. You’re not the only one who has been reading up on my condition. Even… “ he chokes and I can hear how his throat is closed up. I don’t speak just let him talk, the slightest bit worried about what he is going to say, “Even if… I recover. Which… which I still… doubt,” it is obviously difficult for him to say what he means, “I won’t – “ he chokes again, “I will never recover all of my memories. It’s impossible.”

“Draco – “ I start, trying to dissuade him, but he shakes his head.

“I’m not being pessimist here,” he looks up at me now, grey eyes hard, but shining with tears for the first time in all the years I’ve known him, “It’s true, simply a fact. My mind is too messed up to ever recover completely…” his eyes are averted again.

“You will be fine,” I insist, “You will recover. I know you are strong enough. You can live a normal life – “

“Yes, yes,” he cuts me off, “You said that, numerous times now,” his fingernails are digging into my skin, “Even if… the fact remains, that my mind was severely damaged,” I throw a quick look around, this might not be the best place to discuss such a heavy topic, “It can recover, yes, theoretically at least. But some damage will remain…” he searches for the right words, “Some scars are too deep to ever heal over. Some memories will forever be lost to me or at least unclear,” before I can open my mouth, he shakes his head and cuts me off, “I won’t lose any skills. I can remember the recipe of every potion I ever brewed and how exactly to approach a jump so the horse will clear it easily. I won’t have amnesia either. It’s not like there will be big portions of my memories just missing. Only some things…”

I stay silent, because I have no idea what to say. Sure, I could give him the motivational speech I usually do, but it doesn’t seem to fit right now, so I let him decide.

“I don’t remember how it felt to win my first horse competition. I don’t remember what the purple flowers in our garden smelled like. I don’t remember the Yule Ball in our fourth year and not what happened with Buckbeak. I don’t remember what Severus did for my ninth birthday nor…” he pauses, “Nor how my mother’s hugs felt, no matter how rare they were.”

“Oh Draco,” I murmur and once again pull him into my arms. He doesn’t resist this time, “It will come back,” I try, but he shakes his head.

“Those memories are too old. They won’t return. Never properly, a hint or impression maybe but not more,” he is shaking again, but is keeping himself from crying, “I was too young to remember properly anyway, but now they’re completely gone,” he takes a deep breath, “I have made peace with it, Potter.”

“You haven’t,” I say with conviction, “I know I couldn’t.”

“Well, I’m simply different than you,” he mumbles lowly, making it difficult for me to understand him.

“That you are,” I bury my face in his long hair to hide my own tears, “You are so much stronger than I ever was.”

He gives a choked, unbelieving laugh and this time I can clearly hear the tears in his voice. I don’t think he is allowing himself to cry them, but they are there nonetheless. I nuzzle his hair, not sure who I am trying to comfort with this. I guess we are making a really strange picture for the rest of the guests but Lena is effective at keeping anyone from complaining.

“You will get your life back,” I murmur into the blond strands, “And you will have a better life than you could have ever had under your parents’ rule,” carefully I clutch him closer, feeling a bony hand clench in my coat, “I swear that to you.”

He chokes on another half-laugh, half-sob, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Potter.”

“I fully intend to keep that one,” I respond with all the belief I have in him.

That causes him to still. He doesn’t say anything, but since he doesn’t push me away either I continue to hold him. We sit like that for a few minutes before I feel his grip weaken and his body go slack. Bringing him upright reveals that he fell asleep. The emotional exhaustion must have caught up with him. I stroke a strand of hair out of his face, before carefully leaning him against the cushions. Lena comes over cautiously.

“Is he alright?” she repeats.

I try to smile, wiping tears from my eyes, “No, not really at the moment. But he will be one day.”

“What happened to him?”

“That’s a story you do not want to hear, believe me.”

I pay after that, even though our tea and food is virtually untouched. Lifting Draco onto my back, I make my way back home. My eyes wander up into the sky as I walk, pondering this new revelation. It’s true that I had also come across this multiple times. That depending on the severity of the mental damage, some memories might never completely return. I had always hoped that Draco would simply be able to power through that as well, but unfortunately he might be right in this.

Some scars are just too deep to heal over, no matter how much time passes.


	36. Progress or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for the kudos and comments. They are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

We try to get out of the house more often after that. Draco pushes for other places, but I refuse. Instead we go to the café a few more times. However the blonde doesn’t seem to make any progress. It still takes us minutes to get over the doorstep, he gets scared by any passer-by and after getting a panic attack due to a waiter dropping a full tray, he has troubles in the café as well.

Three weeks later I’m running out of ideas. At the beginning going to the café seemed to help Draco, but recently he has turned worse again. He is more easily startled, scaring due to the smallest things sometimes. I have no idea what to do anymore. Bringing up the fact that we should maybe stop going out to the blonde, only has him glaring at me and snapping at me, even if the hands he is clutching Dragon with are shaking badly enough to have the cat meow in complaint.

He has rings under his eyes now from sleeping badly. I have heard him scream himself awake enough nights. Trying to comfort him after a nightmare is futile however when he’s not in a haze and only earned me scratches and a bruise. I’m not much better, his yells and the alarms from the diagnostic charms around Draco ripping me awake several times every night.

So after another one of those awakenings, I am blinking blearily at one of my textbooks because I can’t go to sleep anyway and there are a few chapters on trauma patients in this one. However the letters are blurring in front of my eyes and I have no idea what I just read. My head falls forward onto the book, eyes closing.

Just as I am about to drift away again, a shrill sound fills the room. I jerk instinctively and fall off the chair. Even getting up from the floor however sounds like too much of a chore, so I just remain there. I hear Dragon yowl and something, most likely a book from Draco’s nightstand, land on the ground. The only thing I manage to do is sigh and it soon quiets down again. Getting up still sounds like a terrible idea…

~ * ~

“Harry? Harry! What are you doing on the floor?” an agitated voice is the next thing I notice.

“Hng,” I groan, eyes having trouble to open.

“Harry?” the voice repeats, “Are you still alive?”

“Hmn, yeah…” I mumble into the carpet, “Is the world ending again?”

“No, but you are sleeping on the floor, Harry,” the rustling of clothes sounds as the shadow above me moves.

I try to turn my head, but my already sore cheek rubs across the carpet and I groan, “That hurts.”

“Yes, sleeping on the ground must hurt,” the voice sighs, a hand tapping on my shoulder, “Get up, Harry.”

“No, too tired,” I mumble back.

A chuckle sounds from the figure, “Come on, get up. You’re only going to hurt yourself further by staying there,” when I don’t show any reaction, the voice sighs and clears her throat, “Oh Draco, what are you doing here? You don’t look that good today.”

“Draco?” I groan, as I immediately force myself upright, looking around the room for the blonde, but only seeing Hermione squatting in front of me.

“He’s not here, still sleeping last I checked,” she frowns at me, “It’s just me.”

“Hermione? What are you doing here?” I blink my eyes open tiredly.

“What do you mean? We were supposed to meet at Diagon Alley for lunch today, but you missed it. We were worried about you,” she crosses her arms.

“It’s already past noon?” I just stare at her.

“Yes, what were you up to last night?” she tugs on my hair, “You look terrible again, Harry. I thought things got better with Draco. You both should be getting more sleep than before. But instead he looks like he is reverting back to the ghost version of himself and you are laying passed out on the floor. Is something wrong?”

Groaning I flop onto my back, “I wish I knew. He was getting better, but then…”

“Then what?”

“We went out to a muggle café and he was fine with it. In fact, he was the one who wanted to leave the house. It went alright the first few times, but recently…” I sigh, “Maybe we were moving too fast and now he’s having a setback.”

“Is it really that bad?” she frowns worriedly.

“He startles so easily these days and screams himself awake with nightmares every night. I don’t think that counts as progress,” I lay one of my arms over my face.

“Hm, but doesn’t that mean that he is also becoming more aware of his surroundings?”

“Huh?” I sit up again, staring at her in sleepy confusion.

“I mean, does he still confuse his memories when he scares of something?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “He doesn’t let me comfort him anymore. Whenever I try he just pushes me away or even gets aggressive.”

“So it might actually be progress if he can remain clear,” she cringes, “Even if it’s warped by him being scared of everything.”

“It doesn’t feel like progress,” I groan.

“Let’s give him some more time,” Hermione reaches a hand out to me.

I yawn and let her pull me onto my feet. She pushes me into the bathroom and tells me to clean up. I stare at the picture in the mirror with annoyance. My glasses are askew on my face, my hair even more chaotic than usual and my right cheek is red with the pattern of the carpet imprinted on it. My eyes have deep circles underneath them and I sigh as I splash my face with cold water.

Hermione is waiting for me in the kitchen with a mug of coffee. Thanks to magic I look halfway presentable again, but I doubt I can fool her.

“Wasn’t Ron supposed to be there too?” I ask around a yawn as pick up the hot drink.

“He was, but we agreed it might be better if he didn’t come to Grimmauld Place with me. You know, just in case Draco was up. Even if he’s better, introducing new people into what he considers a safe environment might not be a good idea. Especially not Ron,” she explains.

I nod in agreement, fighting another yawn, “So, you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about. What is it?”

She sighs and looks down into her tea, “Yeah, well.”

“Spit it out,” I urge her on, “I might fall asleep otherwise.”

She gives me a weak smile, but nods, “The court is finally moving somewhere.”

“About Draco’s reparations?” I am surprised.

“Exactly,” she nods, avoiding my eyes.

“And that is bad news because…?” I narrow my eyes at her.

“It’s not bad news per say,” she fiddles with her cup, “Just… They refuse to continue without a statement of the victim,” she makes air-quotes around the last word.

“Draco can’t stand in court,” I say immediately, “He can barely go to a muggle café. There is no way I am dragging him to the Ministry to have him stand in the middle of the courtroom, like he is being sentenced to Azkaban all over again.”

“I know and I told them that he’s not healthy enough for such a thing. They hardly listened however. They only said that if we can’t present a statement soon, the case would be closed.”

“They would just end the discussion, so there is no chance that he will ever get back what was stolen from him?” I frown angrily, a plate back at the sink smashing against the floor due to my accidental magic.

“No,” she corrects me, “Theoretically we could apply to reopen the case after an appropriate waiting time. But that would mean more paperwork, more convincing and even longer waiting. Not to mention it will only get more difficult to get justice if we let more time pass and the case be temporarily closed.”

“But we can’t take Draco there!” I insist.

“Yes,” she glares back, “And I was never planning to. I managed to get the judges to agree to accept a written statement from him. He doesn’t need to be present for that. All he has to do is give it here at home and someone, either me or you, can read it out in court. Draco wouldn’t have to leave the house for it. They even gave me a list of questions to ask him so they would get what they need,” her fingers twitch nervously again, “Do you think he can do that?”

I stare down at my coffee, “I don’t know. If he’s clear he should be able to, but it might trigger memories we don’t want him to relive.”

“That’s a risk we will have to take, I’m afraid,” she chances a look at me, “I’m not sure we will ever get justice for him if he doesn’t give his statement now. You don’t have to ask all of the questions at the same time, you can split them up. Pick a time when he seems alright and ask the first few. When you notice it is getting too much for him or he’s having some kind of flashback, stop and try again when he’s feeling better.”

I sigh again, still glaring angrily at my innocent coffee, “I guess, that’s the best we can hope for.”

“Unfortunately,” she nods, “The wizarding world is still as prejudiced as before the war. It’s like they learned nothing at all.”

“Yes, I know. You said that numerous times,” I give her a weak smile, “Now show me that list, please.”

“I read it over,” she tugs uncomfortably at one of her curly strands, “Most questions are reasonable, but there are a few,” she points at the first, lined with red, “I marked them for you. I’m not sure whether they are purposefully trying to make it worse for him, but they are seriously questionable.”

“Did you enjoy killing and torturing?” I read out loud, “How did that legally make it on the list?”

“As far as I understood it, they passed a paper around and each of the judges was allowed to write their questions on it. It wasn’t checked afterwards, just handed out to me.”

My fingers clench in the material, “I can’t ask him some of those. So if he doesn’t answer all of them… Does that mean we won’t get anywhere in court?”

“Technically yes,” Hermione sighs and I bite my lip, “But I am sure that I will be able to argue in court that some of the questions are unreasonable. But he needs to answer all the unmarked ones. I think you can leave the red ones out or maybe try the easier ones,” she averts her eyes from my gaze, “I don’t like to put him through it, but try to get him to answer as many questions as possible, even the red ones.”

“I can’t ask him those,” I growl desperately.

“You have to understand. The judges are biased. All they hear is the name ‘Malfoy’, they think deatheater and the last thing they want is to do him any good. They were disgruntled enough that he won’t come to court, but relented when I handed them a censored version of the list of his problems. Every step towards justice for him is a fight and the more he cooperates, the easier it will be,” she seems just as desperate.

“What is going on?” a new, cold voice interrupts us from the doorway.


	37. Questioning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I deeply apologize for the delay in posting.
> 
> But I had exams, both theoretical and practical, which took up a lot of my time. And now that they are finished I caught the cold as you do once all the stress finally falls away.  
So yes, I will be continuing this series. It's not abandoned, I'm just not feeling great right now, so updates are a bit slow. I'm sorry.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos anyway. They are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

Both of us startle badly and shoot around to see a pale Draco in the doorway. He is leaning against the frame, using his right hand to support his body against the wood. He has dressed himself in a white dress shirt, even though it looks a bit wrinkled, just like his pressed pants. His eyes are tired over the dark circles. His first steps into the room are wobbly and he takes the much longer route around the massive table just to not pass too close to where we are sitting.

“Draco,” I hear Hermione breathe beside me and with a shock I remember that this is the first time she really sees him in a properly clear state.

Just that small noise manages to startle the blonde though and he shoots around, nearly catching one of his feet on a chair. His eyes are wide for a moment before he does his best to school his features into a blank, slightly annoyed look.

“I don’t think I gave either of you permission to call me by my first name,” he tries to glare.

“Yes, sorry. I guess it has become habit,” she frowns.

“My archenemies are all suddenly calling me by my first name and it became a habit. What did I wake up for?” he snorts downwards, but before I can say anything about that, he straightens back up, “Granger,” he says in a hesitant tone, “I am not sure why you are here, but…” he takes another deep breath, “From what I understood from Potter’s mumblings, you did a lot for me,” his eyes are flitting around the room, hands white-knuckling on the chair he is holding onto to steady himself, “I do not understand why any of you would do that with what I did to all of you, but politeness demands that I say, well,” he has trouble keeping his gaze still, but for a moment he manages to lock on Hermione, “Thank you,” he says with determination.

“Malfoy…” the girl next to me breathes in astonishment as I smile at the blonde.

“I am aware that I am supposed to shake your hand now, but despite the fact that you are on the good side, I am still not going to go anywhere near you. Despite the headache killing me and the nightmares, I would like to be able to think clearly for a bit longer, so I am not going near any other human right now,” he immediately covers his previous words with annoyance.

“It’s fine,” she is smiling as well now, “Thank you for your words.”

He snorts before sitting on the chair furthest away from us. He crosses his legs as well as his arms in front of his chest. His whole posture screams defensiveness.

“So what were you yelling about?” he asks.

I open my mouth about to tell him it’s nothing, when Hermione beats me to it.

“I managed to get your case reopened after I brought proof of your spying. However they are not content with what I already presented them…”

“So they want me to stand as accused again,” he cuts her off, his fingers clench in his sleeves and he seems to ready himself to flee again.

“As witness or victim, not accused,” she hurriedly corrects him, only earning her a snort, “But no. They need a statement from you, but you don’t have to actually show at court.”

“Alright, what do they want to hear from me? The names of the people I killed and tortured. How I enjoyed doing so?” he sneers and I wince as those questions actually are on the list, marked red though.

“You don’t have to answer the questions if it’s too much,” I immediately throw in but it only earns me a scathing look.

“Unfortunately he does,” it’s Hermione who disagrees with me, “If we want justice for him, he will have to.”

“I don’t care,” Draco surprises us with his words, “Justice has already been served in their eyes when they sent me to prison.”

“Yes, but the court should be fair to everyone, not just a certain group of people,” the woman argues back.

The blonde snorts, “You Gryffindors and your idealised worldviews,” he shakes his head, “The court will always follow whatever currently fits best. I know for a fact that my father used his power and money to sway or position judges so the court would decide whatever he preferred. And he was by far not the only one who did that. I haven’t exactly been out into the world yet, but I doubt it’s any different now. The power simply shifted and now other persons are doing it.”

“You have a very cynical worldview,” she frowns.

“I’m more surprised you don’t. That you still keep to your idealised views,” he shrugs, seeming nonchalant, despite the fact that he hasn’t relaxed in the least.

Her frown deepening, Hermione tries to argue but he cuts her off, turning to me and the paper in my hands, “You wanted to ask questions?”

My fingers clench, “Are you sure you’re up for that right now?”

He shrugs, once again glaring, “It’s as good a time as any. I want to get it over with and I can’t be sure how much longer I will be able to think straight.”

I exchange a look with my friend, before sighing, “Alright, but if at any time it becomes too much tell us.”

Another snort, his nose purposefully turning up further, “I am pretty sure you will notice when I will start babbling in child speech again.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I grumble but look down at the questions written out on the paper, “Alright, uhm…”

Hermione waves her wand in the air next to me, Draco stiffening in response at the other side of the table. She throws him an apologetic look which he ignores. A new paper appears on the table and after another spell, the quill on it is poised to record what Draco is going to say.

“That’s not a quill like Skeeter’s is it?” I eye the thing worriedly.

“Of course not,” she glares at me, “Who do you take me for? It’s just a simple recording spell.”

I nod, still not quite sure but I trust Hermione, so I focus back on the blonde who is sitting in a purposefully uncaring and bored position on his chair, but I can see that he is extremely tense. I try to catch the woman’s gaze, but she only nods for me to go on.

“First question: When you were a spy, who did you work with on the light side?”

“Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore mostly,” he stumbles over the names, “After that Remus Lupin. Why is that important?”

“Technically so they can confirm it in person with your contacts,” Hermione explains.

“They are all dead,” he deadpans back.

“That’s why I said ‘technically’,” she grimaces.

“Why did you decide to spy?” I read off the next question.

“Because what the dark lord did and was planning was wrong and he needed to be stopped. I discovered that Severus was working as a spy, so I decided to go the same route, no matter how much he tried to dissuade me,” he answers in a cold voice.

“Did your parents know about that?”

“No, my father might have told Voldemort and my mother’s occlumency shields weren’t strong enough to hide it properly,” he still seems comparatively calm, “Too much of a risk.”

“Was anyone else aware of it?”

“Not that I know of. If someone on Voldemort’s side would have discovered it, I wouldn’t be alive anymore as for your side, I don’t know. Different from Severus, my spying was completely one-sided. I told them what I deemed useful, but got no information on your side,” he sneers, “After all I might be trying to betray them.”

I sigh, but continue on, “When did you start working as a spy?”

“Fifth year at Hogwarts,” he answers what I have already read in the reports, “My father was trying to include me into deatheater business more and more. I started seeing that it was wrong, so I went to Dumbledore.”

I frown at the next question, “When did you get your Dark Mark?” I say hesitantly.

Immediately he stiffens, fingers digging too hard into his left forearm, “Are they asking whether I started spying before I was marked or after? Because I was marked during the holidays between fifth and sixth year, but I was already working with Severus before that,” he grounds out.

The next question has me glaring and I turn to Hermione, “Why isn’t that one red?”

“Because it’s a valid question,” she grimaces, “Not to mention I think they need to hear his honest answer to that.”

I sigh, throw a concerned look at the blonde which is met with a glare, before reading it out reluctantly, “Why did you take the Dark Mark?”

If it’s possible he tenses even further, “Because I did not have a choice,” he forces out as hard, grey eyes meet mine.

“Explain that further please,” Hermione says carefully.

“First thing is that in a pureblood family the children don’t exactly have a say in what they want to do with their lives. The parents choose what they think is best for the family and they will make sure you remember it. As an only child and subsequently the oldest son, my father had complete say over what I did with my life while my mother smiled and nodded to everything he did,” he bares his teeth, “So when Voldemort came back, my father was delighted as you know. He wanted me to be just as devoted a follower. So when the Dark Lord wanted to mark me after my father’s failure in the Ministry, he jumped at the chance to please him. Voldemort doesn’t care what his followers want if it doesn’t agree with his ideology and my father didn’t care for my opinion either, so no one ever bothered to ask me.”

“And your mother?”

“Is too weak to argue against my father, much less Voldemort,” he says the name with derision, but without any fear unlike most people.

“So you never wanted to take the Dark Mark?” Hermione reaffirms it.

“No, never,” he agrees.

“Thank you,” she says.

“For what?” he responds confusedly.

“For being honest and answering the questions.”

He shrugs, but I can see he is relaxing just a bit, “You have done a lot for me even when I didn’t want it. I don’t like owing people.”

Hermione smiles at me for a moment, then she focuses down on the parchment before asking the next question. Time passes that way while I keep an eye on Draco.

A good two hours later I am noticing that it is taking a strain on him. His hands are white-knuckling in his sleeve and the occasional twitches in his facial muscles hint that he may be fighting his mind falling back into the childlike state. So I lay a hand on Hermione’s arm.

“I think it’s enough for today.”

She scrutinises Draco for a moment then nods, “I agree,” her eyes fix on the nervous grey gaze, as she bows her head lightly, “Thank you for the answers. Let’s continue this some other time.”

“You already said that,” he snorts, but visibly relaxes at the end of the interrogation.

She gives him a short smile, which he ignores, before she turns to me, “Keep an eye on him and ask him the rest of the questions when you think it’s the right time. It would be good if you could do it within the week though.”

I nod, “There aren’t that many left. It should be fine.”

Once again she smiles, “This should help in court. Maybe now we can finally have some progress,” she sighs, “Though I am not too hopeful.”

“Not? You said they would accept that.”

“They will, but of course the first thing they will argue that he could have lied or that I could have simply made the answers up to serve my case – “

“The usual arguments to drag the process out until evidence for my guilt can finally be found,” Draco throws in from the other side of the table.

“I won’t let that happen,” my friend says determinedly, staring at him.

He holds her gaze for a few moments before flitting away. Thin arms cross and his posture becomes defensive once again.

“Idealistic idiot,” I hear him murmur, but it only coaxes a soft smile from me.

“I’m glad you’re back,” I grin at him.

That earns me a scoff, but the slightest hint of a flush rising on pale cheeks. Noticing that, he immediately gets up and does his best to storm haughtily out of the room. It is kind of ruined by the fact that he still takes the longer route around the table to avoid us though.


	38. He's gone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> thank you for all the comments and the kudos.
> 
> I am dying of heat and so is my laptop. I hate summer.
> 
> I wanted to update one more time before I drive myself insane again over my grades for this semester (coming up on the website this friday, yay...).
> 
> Anyway, unfortunately I am nearly out of written chapters, despite it being nearly 150 pages long in Word by now.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

I yawn as I push open the door to Grimmauld Place. I have been out and about, trying to find one specific horse. From the way Draco talked about Karina’s Dream she was very dear to him. He hasn’t made as much progress as we had hoped, so he is beyond frustrated. I hoped that finding his beloved mare from childhood days would lift his sprits.

Finding her is turning out to be a nearly impossible task however. By now I have discovered some old articles with magic pictures about the two of them. A young Draco atop a beautiful grey and white horse, holding up a trophy or executing a jump. The mare itself however seems to be lost to time. Draco said all the horses were sold during his time at Hogwarts. The paper trail is gone unfortunately since the mansion burned down.

It means I have to search by hand. My first direction was the internet since I am not particularly familiar with navigating the magical market. I come up empty, of course. Sure, I find a few horses called Karina’s Dream, even a pretty famous one among them, but none of them fit Draco’s description. The only dapple grey I found is long dead, some show jumping Grand Prix winner from the 1950s. 

Due to that I turned to the magical world. However they don’t have something like the internet, so without any papers, tracking a single horse is difficult. It requires many owls and a lot of footwork. I have found out that most Malfoy horses were sold to other purebloods. A lot of them went to France or Germany, but Kari was not among them. She was sold by Narzissa, not Lucius like the others, to some small breeder for Thoroughbreds. I tried contacting the man, only to find out he died a few years ago. His son sold the horses again, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with the younger man yet.

So I am returning home for now until I get a response to the note I left the man.

“I’m back,” I call into the silent house, not expecting any answer.

Kreacher, even though we are good now, only very rarely responds. Draco never does, he hides in his rooms. So at first I don’t think the complete and utter silence of Grimmauld Place any strange. I decide to go to the kitchen first to make some coffee, still yawning. The house elf isn’t there. When I wander back up however, I am greeted by Dragon ambling out of one of the living rooms. When the cat sees me, he meows and bounds up eagerly, winding around my legs.

“Dragon?” I kneel down to pet him, my cup of coffee floating in the air, “What are you doing out here alone?” he only meows, getting on his hind legs to kneed me with his front paws, “What is it?” he only meows louder, causing me to frown at his unusual behaviour, “Is something wrong?” I look up for the blonde usually not far from the cat, “Where is Draco?”

When that question causes Dragon to meow even louder, worry creeps into my chest. Draco didn’t respond to me calling out but that’s normal. Seeing an agitated cat without any blonde human is far less usual though. I stand up straight again, calling out Draco’s name. Worry rising, I feel out for the diagnostic spells I put up around him, but I can’t feel them. Once again that doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad since he has come into the habit of disabling them with his own magic when he is clear. He clearly doesn’t want to be under constant surveillance.

“Draco?” I am now running through the house, opening room after room. Dragon is keeping at my heels as good as the small cat can. But no matter where I go, he isn’t here. A tracing spell for him comes up empty. I come to the horrified realisation that Draco is not in the house anymore, he’s gone. Where I have no idea.

My first thought is that someone kidnapped him for revenge, but there was no breach in the security barriers. It makes little sense. When I arrive back in the entrance hall, I realise that Draco’s coat and an old hat that was on the shelf there are gone. He must have taken them. Did he… leave on his own? It would work since the security only blocks attempts to get in, not getting outside. But why would he do that? We discussed that he was nowhere near stable enough to go out on his own and he agreed that he wouldn’t try. Was he taken after all?

No time to waste on that though. I can figure it out later. For now I have to find him.

My first instinct is to run outside but I don’t think I will get far completely on my own. I need someone to help me. A trace spell still comes up empty. Draco used to be a very good wizard and when he’s clear, he has nearly all of his abilities. His control is a bit wonky, but he can perform any simpler spells he remembers, including blocking spells, so he can’t be tracked. Hermione is the obvious choice for help. For a moment I think of running to the fireplace but instead I summon a Patronus to send it off to my friend.

As soon as that’s done, I am out on the street. I look left and right, biting my lip. Since I have no idea where Draco could have gone, I decide to start with our café. When I rip the door open, Lena looks up with wide eyes, clearly startled.

“Uh, sorry,” I pant out, “Have you seen Draco?”

“Your friend? No, not since the last time he was here with you,” she shakes her head, “Something wrong with him?” she asks as she hurries over to me.

“No,” I frown, “But he wasn’t home when I returned.”

“I haven’t seen him, but if I do, I could call you. Do you want have my number?” she is worried too, since she has come to care about Draco too.

“Yeah, thank you, Lena,” I nod as she types her number into the phone I am still carrying despite living in the wizarding world.

She nods back before an annoyed customer calls and she has to return to work. I just got back outside when hurried steps announce someone’s approach. When I spin around in the vain hope that it might be Draco, I discover it’s Hermione running towards me.

“Harry,” she stops in front of me, “What happened? Where is Draco?”

“I don’t know. I came home from looking for his horse and the house was empty. Tracking spells don’t work and he got rid of the diagnostic spells I put on him,” I explain hurriedly.

“Did someone maybe kidnap him?” she frowns.

“I don’t think so. There were no signs of forced entry. The barriers were completely in place. A hat and his shoes were gone and every single spell on him was dissolved. My best guess is that he walked out on his own,” I shake my head, “I don’t know what happened to him after he left though.”

“Why would he leave on his own?”

“I’m not sure. He had been getting impatient for progress, but I never thought he would just leave the house. I should have put locks on the inside of the barrier, so he couldn’t get out,” I clench my fists.

“I don’t think it would have been a good idea,” Hermione shakes his head, “Yes, you might have prevented him from getting out today, but you would have locked him up. Even if it is for his own good, he would have seen it as just another prison. If he tried to get out to today only to realise he was locked in, you would have lost a big part of the trust you have worked so hard to gain.”

I sigh, “You’re right… I just…”

“We simply have to find him,” she clasps my shoulder, “And we will. Then you can take him back. Don’t start locking the door though. Maybe put a sensor up, but don’t lock him up.”

“I know,” I nod, taking a deep breath, “How do we find him?”

“Tracking spells don’t work,” she repeats my words, “But when you said Draco was gone, I grabbed this,” she pulls out a strange device made out of swirling rings and a face of glass.

“What is that?” I frown at the thing.

“Works similar to a muggle tracker. The muggle version would need a specific sender it can find, but with this thing we can set it on a magic signature. It’s far from precise and can only tell us if we’re in a certain radius of the signature. It’s better than nothing certainly. Of course you can block that with spells too, but I don’t think he considers it,” she smiles at me, “I had recorded Draco’s signature. It’s already inputted.”

“Alright,” I sigh in relief, “Thank you, Hermione. What would I do without you?”

“Wander around the neighbourhood all night with no clue as to where your ward is,” she grins before waving her wand over the device, “Let’s go.”

We do still spend some time wandering mostly aimless, but with the strange device we at least manage to find a direction. In the end we land in an area of housings with several small side alleys. There the device tells us that we are in the closest radius.

“From here we still need to search by hand,” Hermione gives me a smile before we separate and I hurry off into the night in search for Draco.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for today. Thanks for reading.
> 
> I will try to update it faster. Sorry again.
> 
> Hope you liked it. Comments and kudos are always appreciated.  
See you in the next chapter.


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